Dusk
by Honeybee1111
Summary: Canon AU, Twilight Verse. A humble attempt to shoehorn TnT into the sad, apocalyptic timeline after Earth's destruction.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: As a die hard TnT shipper I have a love-hate relationship with the episode Twilight. This is my attempt to write TnT into that universe. Okay, shoehorn them in, with all due respect to the others who have done the same. This is my take._

_Warnings: Canon AU_

_Rating: First Chapter PG, subsequent chapters will be R_

_Disclaimer: Don't own these characters or this world. It's not mine._

**Chapter 1**

Trip looked grimly at the Minshara class planet on the viewscreen. It was barely Minshara, and life for the scattered remains of humanity wouldn't be easy down there. Not that it was a picnic on _Enterprise_, either. He glanced over at the Captain, whose face was its usual emotionless mask as she sat in the big chair.

_Perhaps its better this way_, he thought. He wouldn't have been able to live with himself if Earth had been destroyed on his watch, whatever the circumstances. At least she had all that Vulcan logic and control to rely upon as she dealt with their mission's failure.

Some days, he had to remind himself that it _wasn't_ her fault. She wasn't responsible for Archer's illness, though he knew she blamed herself for that. She also wasn't responsible for the Xindi firefight that resulted in the starboard nacelle being blown to hell. If anything, she'd kept them all alive that day. Still, whenever he looked - really looked - at her in that blue uniform, with those captain's pips on it - he felt angry. Illogically angry and bitter. It shouldn't have been her sitting in that chair, and they both knew it. If it had been Archer, Earth very well might still exist.

Trip closed his eyes.

Nearly every night, he dreamed he was standing on his favorite Florida beach with the wind blowing. He could see children playing in the sand, hear the squawking of seagulls and smell the salt of the vast gulf. Then, it would dawn on him. _This isn't here anymore_, and he would wake up, alone in his room in a cold sweat.

"Commander Tucker," said the Captain, "Lt. Reed, please join me in the ready room."

Malcolm and Trip followed her, glancing at each other with curiosity as to her intentions. When the door closed behind them, she reached into her desk and retrieved a velvet box.

"This isn't a time for celebration," she said, "but I thought it was time to formalize Lt. Reed's role as second officer. Second officer is a position which is traditionally held by those with the rank of Lt. Commander."

Trip looked at Malcolm and for the first time in many months, he smiled. It was a small, half-smile, but it felt good.

T'Pol approached Malcolm and clipped a new pip to his uniform.

"Congratulations, Lt. Commander Reed," said T'Pol formally.

Trip smiled, this time fully.

"Thank you, Captain. It's an honor," said Malcolm.

"It's an honor to serve with you," said T'Pol, as she nodded in a most Vulcan manner.

"Congratulations, Mal," said Trip, shaking his friend's hand, "It's about time. Just remember, I still outrank you."

Malcolm smiled at his friend.

"I'll put out a formal announcement over the comm," said T'Pol, "I also told Captain Archer today. He fully approved of my decision. I asked him to join us, but he decided against it."

"That's too bad," said Malcolm.

"I agree. From now on, you will attend the senior command meetings each day with Commander Tucker and myself."

"Yes, Captain."

"You may return to your post. Dismissed."

Malcolm nodded at his two superiors and turned on his heels and exited. Sometimes Trip wondered why they maintained Starfleet regulations, given that Starfleet essentially didn't exist anymore. But the head of the colony, an Argentinian member of the United Earth cabinet who had been visiting Jupiter Station at the time of Earth's destruction, had requested they do so. He was busy on the surface of Ceti Alpha V, supervising the construction of the new capital city using parts from the small, battered fleet ships _Enterprise_ had escorted from the Sol system.

"I saw you got another letter from Soval today," said Trip, "Anything in it I should know about?"

"He is again requesting that I return to Vulcan. I refused."

T'Pol gestured that Trip could sit down, which he did. She began preparing tea at her desk - the tea kettle and pot being the only physical evidence in the room that Archer was no longer captain.

"Would you like some?"

"Yes," said Trip, who had switched to tea since Chef had begun rationing the coffee. Tea plants grew well in the hydroponic garden, coffee beans not so well.

"Thank you," said Trip, "Thank you for staying with us."

"It is my duty," she said.

"Is it a duty to us. . .or to him?" asked Trip.

T'Pol carefully measured a portion of mint tea into the infuser and poured the boiling water into the kettle. Trip inhaled the air. The room had started to smell of mint and Vulcan candles, rather than dog and coffee.

"Both," she said softly, meeting his eyes.

Trip held her gaze for a long while, remembering the closeness they had before Archer had become ill, and everything had gone to hell. He missed the time he used to spend with her alone. Not just the neural pressure, but the way they had talked about everything. . .and nothing. He remembered telling her about his boyhood in Florida and how he used to take apart boat engines. He told her the story of how a physics teacher at his high school had taken a chance on putting the C-student into the honors class, and for the first time he started enjoying school. He remembered the way she had helped him through the death of his sister. . .just one death that he had been so broken up about. Now, he was the only Tucker left. On top of that, he had lost his best friend to a crazy, alien brain injury, and T'Pol to. . . his own bitterness and need to blame someone for what had happened.

Whatever had been going on between them before, he missed it.

She broke the moment by looking down at her desk. She poured him a mug of tea, which he took.

"Captain. . .T'Pol, I've been having trouble sleeping again," he lied, "I was wondering if you would. . ."

"Come to my quarters at 2100 hours," she said.

"Thanks," he said.

****

T'Pol removed one of the pips from her collar, placing it carefully in her pocket and hit the chime on the door of what had once been the captain's quarters, and now was the former captain's quarters. She was greeted by a wagging dog and a confused looking Jonathan Archer.

"You do not remember our earlier conversation today?" she asked.

"The one about _Rosemary's Baby_?" he responded.

She took a deep breath. Some days he retained his memories long enough to have dinner, some days he didn't. She wasn't up for the full explanation again today, so she would have to play-act.

"No," she said, "you've had a head injury. But Phlox is working on a treatment. Commander Tucker has the bridge and we are searching for the weapon. However, for your own safety, the doctor has requested you stay in your quarters."

Archer reached for the comm.

"He's already explained it to you more than once," she said, "I suggest you don't interrupt him."

"How long has it been?"

"Only a few days," she said, "He's close to a cure, and the mission continues. I promise to inform you if there are any major changes. Now, sit down. You're still not well. Chef is sending up dinner for us."

She looked up at her friend, hoping her words would work this time. She didn't want to tell him the truth again.

He sat down, and she was relieved. There would be no struggle.

"Can you give me a report?" he asked.

She had done this before. There was a day shortly after his illness began, when things were still hopeful, that she remembered for these occasions. When she spoke, she enjoyed pretending her words were the truth.

"It sounds like you and Trip have everything under control," he said.

"You should be very proud of the entire crew," she said earnestly, "These days haven't been easy."

"Well," said Archer, "hopefully Phlox will come through soon."

Another chime rang, and Chef arrived personally with their meals.

"How are you, Captain?" he said, half-smiling. He glanced at T'Pol, knowing the Captain was ignorant of the truth.

"I could be better, but I'm glad you are here with that," said Archer.

"Glad to see you feeling okay," said Chef as he disappeared.

"It's rare that he delivers meals himself," said Archer.

"He's worried about you," said T'Pol, "The whole crew is, but we must trust in Phlox."

With that, they began to eat, mostly in silence.

****

Later that night, T'Pol sat before the meditation candles, waiting for Trip. She was puzzled as to why he requested neural pressure again. She supposed that it could simply be that he needed help sleeping. However, humans had a habit of hiding their true motives.

She had missed their friendship, and she dared hope that perhaps he had missed it as well, and that was his true motive for returning to her. Inwardly, she chided herself for such selfishness. On Vulcan, friendship was frowned upon. It was acceptable to have collegial working relationships, such as the one she had with Captain Archer, but what she had had with Trip was taboo. The private jokes they had shared, the gifts he had brought her. . .these expressions would have been considered vulgar. Even among mates, such dynamics were not acceptable.

_Mates_, she thought sadly. Her mother had written her that Koss had chosen another mate when he had heard of her choice to stay and captain Enterprise. When she got the news, T'Pol had felt relief but also sorrow. She was at an age when she should have been married and been gradually building a mating bond. . .Vulcans weren't meant to spend their lives alone. It was in their nature to bond with another.

T'Pol closed her eyes.

Only in her deepest meditation, in the safety of her white space, did she admit to herself that the hours she had spent with Trip had been a kind of substitution for the early rituals of Vulcan marriage. Before the onset of Pon Farr, couples would spend at least a year together. During that time, they would get to know each other and ideally start to develop an affection for one another before their final mating. What Phlox had not known when he suggested neural pressure for Trip was that the practice was often used between Vulcan newlyweds to create physical intimacy between them. That intimacy helped facilitate the deep telepathic bond that would align their mating cycles. Clinically, neural pressure was only practiced on members of the same gender and only then if they were heterosexual.

She would have been within her rights to refuse Phlox. She _should_ have refused him, but she hadn't. T'Pol still didn't understand why she hadn't. Initially, she told herself it was for the betterment of the mission, and that she was just helping a colleague. Looking back, however, she realized that was untrue. She had also convinced herself that because Trip was human, the neural pressure would be purely clinical. Yet, she knew she wouldn't have engaged in such intimacy with any other male member of the crew, including the captain.

She suddenly realized she had been attracted to Trip, and she had allowed that to cloud her judgement. The direction of her thoughts alarmed her. It was for the better that Trip had broken off their sessions. Nonetheless, she found herself looking forward to his visit.

She inhaled sharply and went into her white space. These thoughts needed to be banished. She was captain of the ship, and Commander Tucker was her first officer. Resuming their friendship would be a good thing, but it could never be more than that. It took a few minutes, but her control returned to her.

When the chime on her door rang, she felt serene and at peace.

****

Two hours later, T'Pol found herself lying on the floor of her quarters in Trip's arms. She had applied pressure to a neural node on the back of his neck that was particularly sensitive to humans. She had then reversed positions to allow him to apply pressure to the same point on her neck, but sleep had overtaken him. Before T'Pol had realized what was happening, he had pressed her into the floor, his head resting against her back. She had waited patiently for him to shift position so she could extract herself from his embrace, but when he did move in his sleep, it was to gather her into his arms more fully.

Now, they were spooned together, and T'Pol made no move to disengage herself.

_Resuming these sessions had been ill-advised_, she thought.

He hadn't said much of anything when he had arrived, nor did he meet her gaze even once. She had immediately noticed there was far more tension in his body than there ever had been before, which given horror of the past months was understandable. But he was so quiet, she had wondered if he had come to her simply because he needed to sleep. Despite herself, she worried that he still carried resentment against her.

Yet, he was holding her in the way that humans held their mates.

_It is not advisable or appropriate to allow this practice to continue. She would definitely discontinue these sessions_, she thought, as she too drifted off to sleep.

****

Trip was walking along his favorite beach, one of those local, secret beaches. It was located down a dirt road and hidden behind some dunes. The sand felt wonderful, massaging his bare feet. Even the air smelled good, salty and fresh. The wind blew in his hair as he looked out across the water at the sailboats cruising along using only wind power.

Strangely, though, the beach was nearly empty. There was only one other person there, a woman. She stood with her back to him, her dark hair blowing in the wind. She was wearing a blue Starfleet jumpsuit. Strange, he thought. Even stranger, he recognized Subcommander T'Pol. She always wore her High Command uniform. She turned to look at him.

Suddenly, a feeling of absolute dread washed over him. He ran to her. Oblivious to Vulcan's sensitivity to being touched, he grabbed her shoulders.

"T'Pol, we have to get out of here now," he said as the panic overtook him.

"Why?"

"This place. . .it's going to be destroyed."

"No," she said, "This place will always exist here."

Trip looked around. His knees threatened to buckle, and he could barely breathe.

"This place is gone. It's all gone."

"We're in your mind," she said softly, "This place will always exist in your mind."

"You're sayin' I'm dreaming," he whispered.

"In a manner of speaking," she said softly.

Except this is the part where you wake up, in a dream, he thought.

He dropped his hands from her shoulders. She reached over and took them into her own hands. She guided him to the ground, where they knelt together on the sand.

"You can always come here, in your mind," she said, "Whenever you need to feel at peace."

His breathing calmed. The panic slowly drained away.

"Why are you here?"

"Because you wish me to be here," she said.

Trip opened his eyes and realized quickly that a pajama-clad T'Pol was in his arms, asleep. No wonder he had dreamt about her. He started to remember where they were and all that had happened. Not for the first time, he found himself envying Jonathan Archer's illness. Sometimes he'd given anything to forget for just a little longer. He knew he should probably disentangle himself and head back to his quarters, but he didn't. He just dozed off again, this time without dreaming.


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: Paramount owns everything._

_Rating: R for sex and angst._

_A/N: Brief continuity note: I remembered that The Columbia still exists at the end of Twilight (Malcolm is getting that as his command) but I have it getting destroyed along with the convoy here. I like how it turned out, so Malcolm will get a command, it just won't be The Columbia. Also, there will be a very NC-17 version of this chapter posted at TriS eventually._

**Chapter 2**

Trip finally woke up when T'Pol stirred at 05300 hours, her usual time to rise and dress. She said nothing as she quietly prepared for her day as if her first officer was not sleeping on her floor.

"You always get up this early, Captain?" asked Trip.

"Yes," she replied softly.

He sat up and stretched. He had had the same Florida dream that he had been having, but it was different. T'Pol had been there, and it had felt very real. She had comforted him and made the dream somehow less terrible.

"I suppose I should head back to my quarters," he said, "Thanks for letting me stay last night. I haven't slept that well. . .since. . .you know."

"I'll see you at 0800 for the morning briefing," she said.

Trip peeked out of her door to make sure no one was there, and he headed off to his own quarters. He didn't think anyone would care at this point if he and T'Pol became involved, as long as it didn't interfere with the running of the ship. But since they weren't involved - at least not that way - he was happy not to fuel whatever gossip was still floating around about them.

Once he was gone, T'Pol took a moment to sit down and contemplate the night before. Trip must have noticed there was something strange about his dream, but it appeared he hadn't understood what had happened. Her musings about their connection had been correct, confirmed by the fact that she had been able to share his dream and even comfort him in it. They were connected. Just how connected and what that connection would mean for them, she did not know.

Telepathic bonds. . .mating bonds weren't discussed in Vulcan society. She assumed their physical contact combined with the realization of her attraction must have allowed her to share his dream. She resolved to research the matter further when she had time.

But her personal life wasn't her highest priority. She had a colony to protect and a ship to run. . .and a former captain to care for.

****

"Goddammit," said Trip, pushing back his breakfast plate. He suddenly wasn't hungry at all. He instead felt sick.

Malcolm leaned back in his chair and briefly put his face in his hands, thinking this was the worst news he could imagine on his first day as part of the senior command team. During these morning breakfasts, Captain T'Pol informed her two senior officers of the status of the colony, any identified threats and the location of the other convoys that were to bring refugees to the Ceti Alpha V.

"Captain Hernandez put up a valiant fight," said T'Pol, "but all hands aboard _The Columbia_ were lost."

"Did any of the 300 ships they were escorting survive?" asked Malcolm.

"None that we know of," said T'Pol, "The few Vulcan and Andorian ships in the area have been told to be on the lookout for any stray survivors."

The Xindi had a methodology that they all knew. Destroy the mother ship, and then chase down the small ships one by one, destroying each without mercy.

"Did the Xindi who attacked them know where they were headed? Could they have identified our position?" asked Trip.

"It doesn't seem so," said T'Pol, "They were still over 14 light years from here, but we should be extra vigilant Also, it appears _The Columbia_ did significant damage to the Xindi fleet that attacked them. Three out of the five Reptilian cruisers that attacked them, did not survive the battle."

"_The Columbia_ was nearly new and had better weapons systems than us," said Malcolm, "and they still didn't survive."

"Hopefully, if we are discovered, we'll have warning," said T'Pol, "but the best case scenario is still our position remaining undiscovered."

T'Pol felt it was illogical to dwell on the fate of _The Columbia_ convoy. Instead, she turned their attention to matters regarding the colony and the maintenance of _Enterprise_. She had assigned Malcolm to develop a weapons training program for the colonists, so they could defend themselves not only against potential Xindi ground assaults but also any other invaders. Enterprise had already destroyed several pirate ships attempting to raid the colony, but it was only a matter of time before one managed to land on the surface. Trip had his hands full doing everything he could to extend the life of all the ship's systems, but they still needed a plan to obtain certain essentials. A few of the supplies would have to be obtained somehow, and T'Pol believed the best course of action would be for someone to take one of the smaller ships that hadn't been broken down to a nearby system.

The comm pinged.

"Captain," said one of the security officers, "Captain Archer is awake and asking questions."

"Thank you, I'll be right down."

"Dismissed, gentleman," said T'Pol formally as she rose from her chair.

Malcolm headed off to the armory, but Trip lingered.

"Let me go talk to him today," said Trip, "You've gone every day for the last six weeks. I'm still not over the last time it fell to me to explain. . ."

"We've discussed this," she said, "I'm far more equipped to handle his emotional outbursts. Besides, I'm the Captain, and it's my duty."

Trip sighed. She could be so stubborn at times. He resisted the urge to grab her arm as she turned away. Instead, he just looked into her eyes.

"Let's both go," he said.

She nodded her assent.

****

Trip looked down at the readout on the treadmill._ Had an hour passed so quickly?_ He had come to the gym right after his shift, skipping dinner. Now, he was covered in sweat and didn't even feel tired, though his muscles ached. The day's grim events had apparently caused his adrenaline to kick in, and he couldn't think of another way to expend it. His mind wandered back to that morning.

It was always bad, telling Archer what had happened, but that morning had been very bad. Archer refused to believe them, and then security had to stun him as he broke out of his quarters and headed to the bridge. When he woke up, he'd lost his memory again, and they'd started all over. That time, he and T'Pol had pleaded with him to believe them. He did, but that didn't stop him from asking all the usual questions, which she had answered with all her Vulcan patience. She endured the tears and anger and shock. Finally, she suggested he take a walk with Porthos on the upper decks, where it was quiet and he would run into few crewman. He agreed. Trip had offered to go with him, but Archer said he wanted to be alone. Trip didn't blame him. He hadn't spoken more than three words to anyone in the days after Earth's destruction.

Trip also thought of Captain Hernandez and _The Columbia_. He had met her a few times, back during his time at the Warp 5 Complex. He remembered a tough, focused woman who also happened to be attractive and funny. _Hadn't she and the Captain once been an item?_ Images of them together, laughing together in the mess hall and sharing drinks at the 602 Club, popped into Trip's head. He thought they had dated for awhile, though they kept it discreet. _Although_, thought Trip, _everyone on this ship thinks T'Pol and I. . .and we never. . ._

Trip sighed. It was a shame. They sure could have used another NX class ship to guard the colony, and they sure could have used another experienced captain. More and more, Trip was starting to understand just how grateful he should be to T'Pol for getting them this far. Erika Hernandez was the best Starfleet had to offer, and she and her ship were gone.

Trip headed back to his quarters and found himself in the shower. His mind continued to race and wander. He thought of the previous night's strange dream. Although it was less of a nightmare than what he had been experiencing, the memory of it left him unsettled. If he didn't know better, he'd have thought she was actually in his dream.

****

T'Pol sat in front of her meditation candle, dressed in her blue pajamas.

The chime on her door rang. They hadn't made a specific plan to continue his treatments, but she was not surprised that he had come. That had been their old, unspoken routine.

She needed to stop the treatments, especially given what had occurred the previous night. They were connected telepathically, more than she had ever been with her betrothed, Koss. If they continued to be in physical contact, the bond would only grow stronger.

She briefly thought of lying to him, simply telling him that she no longer wished to treat him. However, that seemed unfair. He had a right to know the truth. She was both his captain and his friend, and she owed him that.

"Come in," she said formally.

Trip appeared in the doorway, wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. He strode in and sat down before her.

"I slept better on your floor last night that I have in my own bunk recently," he said.

"I'm glad I could help you," she said earnestly.

She bit her lip.

"What's wrong?" he said.

She drew a breath. She was about to tell him something that Vulcans did not discuss with outsiders.

"Your dream last night. . ." she whispered, "I was in it."

"How did you know?" he asked.

He didn't like the look on her face or the vibe in the room.

"What I am about to tell you isn't widely known outside of Vulcan society, and even among ourselves it is rarely spoken about."

"Go on."

"Vulcans are touch-telepaths. When we have physical contact with someone, we can sometimes access their thoughts or transfer our thoughts to theirs. This is considered very intimate. This is why we avoid casual physical contact," she said.

Trip digested this information, and he realized what it possibly meant.

"You were in my dream last night. But it was _really_ you."

She nodded.

"I believe over the course of our treatments, we've developed a light telepathic bond that allowed me to appear in your dream. I remember telling you that the beach in your mind could not ever be destroyed."

"That's amazing," said Trip, scooting toward her.

T'Pol swallowed.

"I never would have agreed to the treatments had I known it was possible to form even a light bond with a human. I violated your privacy without intent. . .but I still. . ."

Trip smiled at her.

"I was glad you were there. I had been having those nightmares for weeks. . I think you helped me."

He reached out to take her hand, and she snapped it back.

"You don't understand. This connection we have . . .it's likely the precursor to . . .to a mating bond. If we continue to be in physical contact with each other, it will only grow stronger."

Trip thought about this for a moment.

"You mean it's a romantic thing?"

"It's more than that," she whispered, "It's . . it's . ."

She couldn't continue, she closed her eyes.

He wanted more than anything to reach over and hold her, as he had done the previous night, but he knew somehow he shouldn't. But he really, really wanted to.

"It's okay, T'Pol," he said, "It's okay."

Before the captain's illness, Trip had just started to admit to himself that he was romantically interested in T'Pol. Certainly, he had been physically attracted to her since day one - that was a given. All the straight men on the ship were attracted to her. But he had started to really. . .like her on top of that. His anger at the world had fogged up those feelings over the past few months, but he now realized they still existed.

"It's not okay," she said, "as I said, telepathy is considered deeply intimate, more intimate than sexual relations. . ."

_Sexual relations._ The words knocked around in his head. He looked at her. _Really_ looked at her. The way her pajamas clung to her body. The bee-stung lips. The adorable ears. He remembered the first night she had approached him for neural pressure. He thought she had been coming on to him. Now, he couldn't recall why he had wanted to rebuff those imagined advances. He tried to remember the last time he'd been with a woman. . had it really been before the Xindi's first attack?

T'Pol had stopped speaking, and before he knew what was happening he leaned over and took her face in his hands. She said nothing and was still.

_All we have is right now_, he thought. Somehow, he knew she had heard it.

He leaned over and kissed her on the mouth. At first, she didn't respond, but gradually she began to return the kiss. She tentatively opened her mouth, and he thrust his tongue inside. She gasped then moaned.

T'Pol had never experienced anything quite like this. Vulcans didn't kiss or show this kind of affection at all, so she was unprepared for the sensations that raced through her mind and body. She knew she should tell him to stop, but the bond had somehow ignited the moment he had touched her. She felt what he felt and was unwilling or unable to suppress it. She felt all his sorrow and devastation of the last months course through her mind, as well as how alive she was making him feel. How exhilarated he felt as he held her.

She knew it wasn't logical to allow him to continue, but the mating bond wasn't a logical thing. It was a vestige of a far more primitive time in her people's history.

Trip found himself surprised that she hadn't tried to stop him, pleasantly so. However, he broke their embrace. He searched her face for any objection or worry, and he saw none.

"T'Pol," he whispered, "if I don't go now, I don't think I can stop. . .I . . ."

What Trip didn't realize is that that while she didn't understand his gentleness or his concern for her, she could comprehend his need. Vulcan mating cycles were all about primal need.

She lay back on the floor, taking him with her. He knew then, they had passed the point of no return.


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I own nothing._

_Rating: R for non-explicit sexuality and angst._

**  
Chapter 3**

"Are you okay?" he whispered when he could finally form words.

She nodded. He rolled off her and pulled her into an embrace. Through this new bond, he felt a terrible fear and regret in her.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

She trembled in his arms.

"You don't understand. Vulcans mate for life. There is likely no way to break the bond now."

"I _do_ understand that," he said, "I can feel it through you."

"You have every right to be angry. . "

"You tried to warn me, but I wanted this," he said.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because this is the first time since the first Xindi attack I've felt like life is worth living," he said. "Look, T'Pol. . .I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow. We both know that either one of us or both of us could die. . .but I don't regret being here or what's happened. We'll deal with the consequences of this thing as they come."

She inhaled.

"C'mon," he said, "Relax. Just let go of everything for awhile."

He gently caressed her back and arms. She slowly softened against him. After awhile, he got up and headed to her small bathroom. When he emerged, he brought a washcloth and gently gave her a sponge bath before redressing her in her pajamas. She found this nearly as peculiar as his concern for her during their sexual encounter. At times like this, Vulcan men were simply too overcome with delirium to even think of their mate's well-being.

"Now, let's see if we can squeeze into your bunk," he said as he pulled on his sweatpants, "I'm not sure I'm up for another night on the floor."

"You wish to stay with me?"

"If you don't mind."

T'Pol shook her head. T'Pol knew the common human euphemism for sexual relations was "sleeping together" and she knew that humans did commonly share beds with their mates. So, she allowed Trip to crawl under the coverlet on her bunk, and she followed him. She nervously let him place his arms around her, and she laid her head on his chest.

"It's weird. . .I can feel that you're still scared. Don't be, okay?"

Being held by him was stranger to her Vulcan sensibilities than the gentle copulation had been. She nevertheless found herself adjusting to the idea.

"This complicates things. Our existence is already complicated enough," she whispered.

"No," he said, "It simplifies things. We'll take care of each other, I promise."

"We should probably keep this between us," she said, "I am unsure how the crew will react to the captain and the first officer having mated."

Trip smiled at her Vulcan phraseology, and then he squeezed her a little. She had a point. He was optimistic that most of the crew would be fine with their relationship, but he didn't know about people on the surface. Both of them had important positions to maintain.

"You're probably right," he sighed, "We'll keep this between us for now."

****

Trip's eyes fluttered open very early that morning. All the crew quarters on _Enterprise_ were so similar, he at first forgot he wasn't in his own bed. Then, he smelled the slightly spicy Vulcan candles and the coppery smell of T'Pol's sheets, which reminded him of perfume except that it wasn't perfume. It was just a byproduct of her copper blood. He turned over and saw her sitting on the floor, meditating in front of a candle. She was fully dressed in her blue Starfleet jumpsuit. He glanced at the chronometer and saw that it read 0523. She was ever the early-riser.

"Good morning," he said.

She opened her eyes.

"Good morning, Commander," she said with her customary formality.

_So, that's how it's going to be. Lovers by night, officers by day._ He could live with that, he supposed.

She stood up, taking the candle with her and setting it on the desk. She turned on the lamp and blew out the candle. He sat up and put his feet on the floor.

"I'm going to the ready room," she said, "I'll see you at 0800 for the morning briefing."

"C'mere," he said, gesturing with his finger.

She approached him, her hands behind her back in a very Vulcan posture.

"Kiss me goodbye - then I'll treat you like my Captain for the rest of the day."

She looked at him awkwardly at first, then she leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

"Thanks, Captain," he said.

T'Pol nodded, turned on her heels and disappeared out the door.

****

T'Pol reached the bridge and found Ensign Sato at her post.

"Have the evening's communications been sent to my PADD?" asked T'Pol.

"Yes, Captain," said Hoshi.

"Good. Is there anything else to report?"

"No," she said, "It was a quiet night."

"Very good," said T'Pol as she headed toward the Ready Room.

"Captain," said Hoshi, "may I join you for a moment?"

T'Pol nodded.

Once at her desk she sat down and beckoned Hoshi to do so the same.

"I just wanted to say that if you needed to take a day off from dealing with Captain Archer, I'd be happy to tell him the truth. We had a good relationship before, and I think he would trust me."

T'Pol leaned forward. She was pleased with the offer, though she had concerns.

"It is a difficult task," said T'Pol.

"I know," said Hoshi, "and you shouldn't have to do it every day. I think I can handle it once and awhile."

T'Pol nodded.

"I will speak to Phlox about the possibility. If he approves, I will take your offer. However, the first time I must be there with you. Also, I will not allow you to do it more than once a month. Even with my Vulcan control, I have found the task - draining."

"I know," said Hoshi, "that's why I'm offering."

"Very good, Ensign. You're dismissed."

****

Later that day, Malcolm and Trip worked together in the armory, attempting to add power to the weapons systems. It wasn't an easy task, especially working with the limited resources they had.

Since Earth's destruction, they tended to talk little about personal matters. It was too easy for the conversation to meander to people and places that no longer existed. On the other hand, the crew had become much closer to one another since all they really had was each other.

"You know Corporal Cole?" asked Malcolm, "The MACO?"

Trip nodded. He had seen her a few times, and she was certainly attractive. Hell, thought Trip, objectively speaking she was hot.

"She's from Florida," he said, "Apparently, she grew up not far from you."

"Really?" said Trip, "Maybe we can get together sometime and talk about what isn't there anymore."

"Just as long as you remember who saw her first," said Malcolm.

Trip looked up.

"Are you two. . .?"

Malcolm smirked a little as he worked on the controls of one of the starboard phase canons.

"Not yet," said Malcolm, "but that's the plan."

"Carpe Diem," said Trip.

"I figure with so few humans left," said Malcolm, "It's time to think about creating some more humans, and Corporal Cole is attractive enough that I imagine she won't be single for long. I've decided to step up, as you yanks would say."

Trip laughed.

"Good for you. She's lucky."

"She doesn't know how lucky, yet," said Malcolm.

Trip grinned at his friend. Then, he felt a little sadness creep up. Life was moving on, and more and more small moments of happiness were returning. Trip thought it likely he would never feel pure joy again, but he felt comforted that life could move forward in some way.

"Speaking of which," said Malcolm, "I've gotten a report that says you haven't slept in your quarters in the last two nights."

Trip turned around.

"How do you know that?"

"It's from the door logs. There's a program that flags any anomalous readings from the doors."

"And not being in your cabin two nights in row is considered anomalous?"

"Not alone," said Malcolm, "but it could indicate the subject has been taken over by a non-corporeal being or have been infected by an alien virus or any number of things. . . mostly it just indicates that the subject is getting laid. In that case, I tend to ignore the readings. Except when it's you."

Trip turned back around to the console he was working on.

"It's not your business, Malcolm."

"I daresay it is," said Malcolm, "Especially, since it's you and our captain."

"Mal. . . "

"I'm not judging either of you," said Malcolm, "I've got no problem with it as long as you two don't let it interfere with your command decisions."

Trip slammed the the console shut.

"We won't. She especially won't, being a Vulcan. But, Malcolm, she and I agreed to keep this thing quiet for now."

Malcolm walked over to his friend.

"I won't tell a soul," he said, "but I am surprised. I sensed things had cooled between you after Archer got sick."

"They had. Just started up again - and for real this time. _The Columbia_ - it just got to me and then she was there. You know."

Malcolm nodded.

"I know," he said.

****

T'Pol couldn't believe her eyes, when she stared down at the report on her PADD. It defied logic. The NX-03, _The Endeavor_, had fled the Sol system and sought refuge in Andorian space. It currently was operating with a skeleton crew, owing to the fact that it had barely escaped Jupiter Station as the Xindi had attacked.

"Soval will be headed to Andoria," said T'Pol to Hoshi, "He is one of the few with the coordinates to this system. He will personally tell Captain Clark our location, so as not to risk a subspace transmission that could be intercepted."

Hoshi smiled. This was the first good news that had arrived in a long time.

"There's more," said T'Pol, "An elementary school class was touring the ship at the time of the attack. There are 42 human children aboard _The Endeavor_."

Hoshi put her hands over her mouth to suppress a gasp. Then tears formed in her eyes that she couldn't control. She reached into a compartment on her console and retrieved a tissue to wipe her eyes.

"Ensign Sato," said T'Pol, "I thought you would be happy at this news."

Hoshi sniffled.

"I am, Captain," she said, "I am. These aren't tears of sadness, really."

After all her time among humans, T'Pol still didn't understand how crying could signify happiness as well as sadness, but she did feel compassion for Ensign Sato.

"You may take a break from your post, Ensign."

Hoshi nodded.

"Yes, Captain."

*****

The next morning, Malcolm, Trip and T'Pol sat around the breakfast table as usual. T'Pol sensed a lightening of the mood that was the most significant change in morale since before Earth's destruction.

"How did they ever survive?" asked Malcolm.

"With their weapons systems not yet online, Captain Clark decided his only option was escape. The initial attack focused on the station, rather than the ship. This gave him a chance to evade the Xindi ships by going to Warp 5. Lt. Commander Reed, your priority will be getting their weapons online when they arrive."

"What about the children?" asked Trip.

The report indicated that 36 of the children aboard _The Endeavor _were orphans. The six that weren't happened to have parents who had volunteered to chaperone the field trip.

"I've spoken to President Borges," said T'Pol, "He believes the children should be divided up. Some should be settled on the surface, while others should stay aboard _The Endeavor_ and another group should be placed here on _Enterprise_."

"Why?" asked Trip.

"If the colony is destroyed, then some of the children aboard the ships might survive - assuming one or both of the ships could escape. If either or both of the ships are destroyed, perhaps some of the children from the colony will survive."

Trip closed his eyes. It was a wise, if somewhat sickening strategy.

"We shall have to look for volunteers among the crew to take over the care of any children that might come aboard as well as set up both schooling and recreational facilities."

Malcolm smiled.

"I think it will nice having children aboard," he said softly.

"Me too," said Trip.

T'Pol looked at them both. Vulcans still numbered in the billions, but anyone's best guess estimated the number of humans to be between 6,000 and 7,000. T'Pol well understood why everyone had reacted so strongly to the idea that children would be arriving.

"Soval believes they should arrive within six weeks," said T'Pol.

"We should plan some kind of a welcome party for them," said Trip.

T'Pol looked at him, and through their bond she felt a real happiness flow through her. Humans were certainly more resilient than Vulcans would be under the same circumstances.

"I shall assign Crewman Cutler and the Chef to prepare a celebration when the children arrive."


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: I don't own this world._

_Rating: R for sex and angst._

**Chapter 4**

Three weeks later, Malcolm sat in T'Pol's ready room. She had called him there for unspecified reasons.

"I wanted to show you something," said T'Pol, who pulled up a record on the screen. It was the record of one of the orphans that would be arriving on _The Endeavor_.

"Her name is Lily St. John, and she is five earth years old and was born in Bristol, England. She's the only British child among the orphans."

Malcolm looked at the blond little girl with the chubby cheeks, holding a poppy flower. The way she was smiling, he assumed the photograph had been taken before her parents had died.

"Why are you showing this to me?"

"President Borges believes that the orphans should be placed among people who understand their cultural traditions. As you know, there are very few British survivors living on Ceti Alpha V. I wanted to ask you if you would like to take over the caretaker role for this child."

Malcolm sat back in his chair. He hadn't expected this.

"Captain," he said looking at the photograph, "I don't know what to say. I. . .I mean, I'm still a bachelor and. . ."

"You told me last week that you had decided to mate with Corporal Cole. I assumed that was still your plan."

"Date, I said date," responded Malcolm, "but it's only been a few weeks."

T'Pol nodded, as though she was reminding herself that human courtship was radically different from Vulcan courtship.

"There is no need for an immediate decision," said T'Pol, "She will not arrive for at least three weeks. Perhaps you would like to think about it and discuss the matter with Corporal Cole."

Malcolm nodded.

"How did things go with Captain Archer today?" he asked. He, Hoshi and Trip all had a pact to make sure that T'Pol didn't have to deal with the former captain's illness alone.

"I didn't tell him the entire truth today," she said, "that made it easier on both him and me."

Malcolm nodded.

"Hoshi told me she's going to take over tomorrow's shift to give you a break."

"Yes," said T'Pol stiffly, "She has proved most capable of handing the situation."

"Is there anything else, Captain?"

"No, Mr. Reed. You are dismissed."

****

The next meeting of the senior bridge staff involved discussing plans for the ten children that would be living on _Enterprise_. Hoshi volunteered to coordinate their schooling, and T'Pol was working on a plan to reconfigure some of the crew quarters so that the children could live in the same space as their adoptive parents.

"We should reconfigure Cargo Bay 3 into a playground," said Trip.

T'Pol was puzzled. Vulcans had no word for playground.

"Human kids need a big wide open space to play," explained Trip, "They'll need to expend energy, especially since they will be living cooped up on a starship."

"Perhaps you and your crew could make the design changes," said T'Pol.

"That will be fun," said Trip, who was already thinking of various ways he could fabricate a merry-go-round.

T'Pol noticed his enthusiasm, and how his mood had brightened since the news of the children's arrival.

****

Later that night, Trip and T'Pol were curled up in bed together. Trip ran his fingers through her dark hair.

"Do you wish to find a human mate? One you could have a child with? Although, our bond cannot be severed, I would do my best to release you if you wished."

Trip sat up in bed.

"Where did that come from?"

"There are very few humans left. It is only natural that you would wish to seek a mate with whom you could procreate."

T'Pol sensed anger in him. She hadn't expected that.

"T'Pol," he said, "The last thing I want is to purposely bring a child into this hellish existence. It wouldn't be fair. I know there are others that don't feel the same as me. . .want to repopulate and all. . .but I could never bring a kid into this place on purpose."

She said nothing, but he sensed she was both relieved and sad. He laid back down next to her, so they were facing one another.

"Plus I'm not interested in anyone else but you," he said, "You're my . . .you're the only one. . ."

He didn't finish.

"I'm glad of that, _Thy'la_."

"What does that mean?"

T'Pol reached up and entwined her fingers into his.

"It roughly translates to beloved."

He smiled at her, his earlier anger gone. She knew he understood, through their bond, how difficult it was for her to offer to release him, but that it was fundamentally Vulcan to want to sacrifice for a greater good. What she had offered was an expression of love.

"We'll have no more talk of you releasing me," said Trip, "and for the record, I've got no intention of releasing you."

****

Two weeks later, T'Pol sat across from Malcolm and Amanda.

"I must perform the ceremony?" asked T'Pol.

"You're the captain," replied Malcolm, amused that this human tradition was unknown to his Vulcan captain.

"Surely, there is someone else. . "

"There's no one else, Captain," said Amanda, "Malcolm and I never would have met if we hadn't both been serving on this ship. We want her Captain to marry us, and preferably before Lily arrives."

"Then I will be honored," said T'Pol, "Tell me which human ceremony you prefer, and I will study it."

"The one used in the British Navy will do," said Malcolm, "I'll send it to you."

"Thank you, and congratulations to you both."

The couple then turned and left. T'Pol then scrolled through the files of the other nine children that were to come aboard the Enterprise. Six were American and three were Canadian - all native speakers of English between the ages for five and ten. Five boys and five girls. One boy was Japanese-American, and Hoshi had agreed to adopt him.

****

T'Pol sat in the Captain's mess, and across from her sat Jonathan Archer. She had told him the full story today, and he had been peppering her with questions for the last hour. She had patiently answered, but her allotted time was coming to an end. As captain, she had many duties.

"I'm sure Travis could help you understand what the needs of children in deep space will be," said Archer enthusiastically.

"Ensign Mayweather is dead," said T'Pol, "He was killed in a battle with the Xindi."

Archer closed his eyes. Of all the dead crewmembers, he usually took Travis's death the hardest. T'Pol thought maybe she should have lied about that, but she tended to tell all lies or the whole truth. She wasn't good at keeping in-betweens straight in her head.

"Tomorrow there will be a wedding in the mess hall," said T'Pol, "Lt. Commander Reed and Corporal Amanda Cole have decided to marry. There have also been many weddings on the surface," said T'Pol.

"That's nice," said Archer.

"Humans are resilient," said T'Pol, "and many wish to try and move forward, despite the difficult circumstances. Do you wish to attend?"

"I won't know about it tomorrow," said Archer.

"Do you believe you would like to attend?"

"Yes," said Archer, "but let's see how I take the news tomorrow."

T'Pol finished the last bites on her plate. She stood up.

"Captain," she said, "I must return to my post."

"You're the Captain," said Archer, "You don't need my permission."

She nodded in acknowledgement of this fact, but both Archer and T'Pol knew that she would have done anything for it not to be so.

****

It was rare these days, that the crew could wear their dress uniforms. So, they all took the Reed/Cole wedding as an opportunity to do so. Only the bride wore civilian clothes, a white dress that she had borrowed from a friend. She had flowers from the hydroponic garden both in her upswept hair and in a bouquet, and chef had even made a cake. Trip served as best man, with Major Hayes giving the bride away and another female MACO, Corporal McKenzie was the maid of honor.

"You may kiss the bride," said T'Pol ceremoniously. The room erupted in applause and the party began. The energy in the room was bittersweet, but most people had resolved to try and be happy. T'Pol had never witnessed a human wedding, let alone performed one, and she watched the various rituals in fascination. Vulcan weddings were solemn, family affairs that did not involve dancing or drinking or toasts.

She sat in the corner, and eventually Trip approached her, two glasses of beer in his hand. He sat next to her and handed her one of the glasses. Wine wasn't yet possible, but the colonists had started to brew beer. A keg had been brought up from the surface for the celebration.

"It's too bad Captain Archer couldn't join us," said Trip.

Unlike the previous day, this day had been unpleasant. Phlox had needed to sedate Archer, as he had assumed the story of his illness was a Xindi deception.

"Yes," said T'Pol, still watching Malcolm and Amanda dancing.

"Phlox is going to return to Denobula," continued T'Pol, "He believes he'll have a better chance and finding a cure there."

Trip's face fell, and she sensed disappointment but not surprise.

"I can't say I blame him," said Trip, "He's stayed with us longer than I expected he would. He's got a life and family back on his homeworld."

T'Pol nodded. She looked at Trip, knowing he would never be happy on Vulcan. She had thought of suggesting they go there if Archer were ever cured, but no matter how unhappy he was he wouldn't abandon his people. And she knew her place was among the humans. As a Vulcan who had formed a matebond with a human, she would be no more accepted by her people than Trip.

They had been very careful about showing affection to one another in public, though they both knew that most of the crew were aware of their relationship. But as he watched the newlyweds together, smiling and laughing as if the world wasn't on the verge of ending, Trip took T'Pol's hand in his. Without even thinking, she placed her head on his shoulder and continued to watch her crew celebrate. If anyone among the crew noticed, they didn't seem to care.

****

A week later Malcolm was taking a break from his work in the armory to head down to the quartermaster's shop. He had put in a special request two weeks earlier, and he had just been messaged that it was ready. When he was there, he found Trip supervising the fabrication of some conduits.

"Good afternoon, Commander," said Malcolm.

"Hello, Mr. Reed," said Trip, "How's married life treating you?"

"Fine," said Malcolm, "Except that Amanda has decided to redecorate our quarters. She wants to paint the interior seafoam green and yellow. I suspect it's a Florida thing."

Trip laughed.

"We do love our pastels in Florida," said Trip, "Did love, I mean."

Malcolm walked over to the table where various requests had been fulfilled. He opened a box and pulled out a classic Teddy Bear.

"What do you think?" said Malcolm.

"Wow," said Trip, "It never ceases to amaze me what fine work is done here."

The quartermaster smiled but said nothing, well-used to compliments these days.

"Amanda wanted me to order her some clothes first, but I remember caring far more for toys than clothes when I was five," said Malcolm, who paused for a moment, "It's not going to be easy. Amanda and I know that she'll be missing her real parents. A teddy bear won't fix things, but it will be a start. And Amanda's already planning on decking our cabin up for an English-style Christmas."

"It should be less than a week now," said Trip, "You and Amanda better make use of your alone time until then."

Malcolm walked over to Trip and examined his work on the conduits. The quartermaster was excellent, but Trip was no slouch.

"We have been," said Malcolm sheepishly, "You never told me what fun Florida girls are."

Malcolm looked around to see if anyone else was in earshot.

"How are things with you and the Captain?" asked Malcolm.

Trip paused. It was a strange question for some reason.

"We're taking it day by day," he said, "but it's different for Vulcans."

"This may sound like a personal question," said Malcolm, "but I heard they only have sex every seven years."

Trip shook his head.

"Not in my recent experience," he said blushing a little, though he made a mental note that he would have to discuss Vulcan mating with T'Pol.

"That must be a relief to you," said Malcolm, "and frankly every seven years would be a severe waste with a beautiful woman like T'Pol."

"I'll say," said Trip, half-smiling.

****

Later that night, a naked Trip was sprawled on the floor of his cabin with a naked T'Pol collapsed on top of him. As her breathing began to return to normal, he brushed a damp clump of hair from her face and kissed the tip of her nose.

"May I ask you a question?"

She nodded.

"I thought Vulcans only had sex every seven years. We've had it most every day for weeks. Is the only seven years thing just a rumor?"

T'Pol's cheeks turned a pale green color, and he realized she was blushing. She buried her face in his shoulder.

"Vulcans experience a mating cycle every seven years. During this time we are required to mate or be overcome by the blood fever. However, we can experience sexual arousal outside of the mating cycle, as I have with you."

He could feel how difficult this was for her to talk about. _Vulcans can be so prudish_, thought Trip. He also understood, though the bond, what she wasn't telling him - how forceful and aggressive this mating ritual was.

"I was just curious. . .will you go through this mating cycle soon?"

"I don't know," she said, "Vulcan females experience the blood fever in concert with their mates. Because I am bonded with you, I don't know if or when I will experience it."

Trip thought about this, and something dawned on him.

"So, do you get turned on when I am? Because of this bond?"

She nodded.

"I have found it fascinating how often you - and I would assume all human males - experience desire. It is a wonder you get anything done."

"It's all about time management," said Trip, but he was really thinking about the Vulcan mating cycle. "So, tell me, what happens if you don't mate during the blood fever?"

"You die," said T'Pol.

"What?"

"There are other ways to satisfy the blood fever. . . but they are uncommon. A fight to the death. ."

"What?"

She squeezed him tight, clinging to him. That was odd. She was clearly rattled by the discussion.

"Trip, Vulcans don't discuss this with off worlders. . "

"I understand that. . .but this concerns me."

"If the pon farr comes upon me, we will simply need to engage in sexual relations. Perhaps more aggressively than normal, but that should be all I require of you. . ."

"Okay, baby," he said.

He knew that she had initially expected sex between them to be more violent than it was, and now he was understanding why. No wonder Vulcans never talked about this. The fact that they were into rough sex sure punctured their high-and-mighty image.

"It is also possible you may experience the blood fever, at least partially, due to our bond."

Trip took a deep breath. He didn't like the idea of losing control or possibly hurting her.

"Because you are not Vulcan, it will likely not be nearly as dangerous for you. . "

"Okay," he said, "We'll deal with it if and when it comes along."

****

T'Pol and Trip stood formally at the airlock, waiting to greet the new arrivals. Just behind them stood Malcolm and Amanda, less formally and more nervously. T'Pol, in discussions with a human psychologist on the surface, had decided that the children would meet their new caregivers individually. Malcolm and Amanda, in deference to his being a senior officer, were going first.

Soval would be personally escorting the children chosen to live on Enterprise onto the ship. He also wanted to speak with T'Pol, no doubt to try and convince her to return to Vulcan yet again. He appeared in the doorway alongside a tiny human girl clutching a backpack, the one T'Pol had seen in the picture.

T'Pol nodded at Soval and gestured to Malcolm and Amanda. The child's transfer should be the first priority.

Soval spoke to the girl.

"Lily, this is Lt. Commander Reed and his wife Corporal Cole," said Soval.

Malcolm knelt next to the child.

"You can call me Malcolm," he said, "and you can call her Amanda."

The little girl smiled when she heard his accent.

"Hello," she said, very British-ly.

"It's wonderful to meet you. Amanda and I would like to show you your room. Then, we'll get you something to eat. Would you like that?"

Lily nodded.

"Yes, sir," she said softly.

Amanda held out her hand, and the little girl took it.

"It's very nice to meet you, Lily," she said.

Malcolm stood up and took Lily's other hand and the new family disappeared down the corridor.

This ritual was repeated multiple times over, finally culminating in Hoshi carrying a sleeping five-year old boy back to her quarters.

"Soval," said T'Pol finally turning to her former superior, "Our chef has prepared a meal in your honor. Please dine with us in the Captain's mess."

"Thank you, T'Pol."

Trip was irritated that he didn't address her as Captain, but he said nothing. He simply followed the two Vulcans toward the turbolift.

****

Several hours later, T'Pol alone escorted Soval back to the airlock.

"You won't reconsider? Not this time?"

"My obligations are here."

T'Pol locked eyes with Soval. She wondered if he had guessed that she had bonded with Commander Tucker. If he had, he hadn't indicated as such.

"Your loyalty is admirable but misplaced. They are a dying people."

T'Pol responded by lifting her hand in the traditional Vulcan salute.

"Live long and prosper," said T'Pol.

Soval responded in kind.

"Live long and prosper, T'Pol."

He turned and headed into his shuttle. T'Pol had no regrets as the door closed behind him.


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: Not mine._

_Rating: PG-13 to R for Pon Farr, done non explicitly._

**Chapter 5**

**_About Two Years Later_**

All the children who lived on _Enterprise _had gathered for a celebration. It was Lily St. John Reed's seventh birthday, and by way of celebration they were having a Winnie-the-Pooh themed party, including traditional British tea and stuffed animal guests.

Captain Jonathan Archer looked down at the guest of honor, who was clutching the very same teddy bear that her parents had given her the first night she had arrived on _Enterprise_.

"I like your bear," said Archer.

"You say that every time you meet him," said Lily, matter-of-fact-ly.

Archer smiled.

"So, you and I know each other?"

Lily nodded rigorously.

"But you never remember. Your memory is broken. But you are always nice."

Archer smiled.

"I'm glad to hear that," said Archer.

"Once," said Lily, "Porthos got my Pooh in his mouth. You rescued him. Then you told me to forgive Porthos because he was just playing with him and wasn't trying to hurt him. Then, my mum stitched Pooh up."

"That sounds like quite a day," said Archer.

"It was. Would you tell me about the time you rescued my daddy from the Romulan mine?"

Archer was surprised that the little girl had heard the story of the minefield, especially considering how badly Malcolm had been hurt. Then again, he thought that maybe the fact that Malcolm had come through danger unhurt was comforting to a girl who lived such a grim existence.

"Well. . .I've told you this before?"

Lily nodded. Archer thought he best be as truthful as possible, given that he couldn't remember if he had glossed over anything or exaggerated a plot point. He also hoped that he had done the same thing previously. He glanced across the room, where Malcolm sat with his wife, Corporal Cole.

"Okay. . .well, as you know, we weren't meaning to do anything more than explore a planet that day. . .

***

Trip rang the chime on the door of T'Pol's quarters. As Captain, she had promised to make an appearance at Lily's party, but Trip had not seen her since the morning briefing. He did have the code to her quarters, but his instincts told him to ring this time. He didn't know precisely why.

"Come in," said T'Pol softly.

He did, and he found her lying face down on her bed. She didn't even lift her head, which was resting on her hands which were in turn resting on the pillow.

"Are you okay, Captain?"

"I am unwell. I have a fever," she said.

"I'll get you to the doctor," said Trip.

"I've already seen Dr. Sanders this afternoon," said T'Pol, "She prescribed the hypospray on the table. Would you bring it to me?"

T'Pol gradually sat up and onto the edge of the bed. Trip brought her the hypospray.

"You want me to administer it?"

She nodded, and he pressed the device into her neck.

"What did she give you? An analgesic?"

"She mixed it with a mild tranquilizer and . . .and a dose of regulatory hormones. .but that dose is the last one likely to work."

She looked into his eyes, and he immediately understood. The blood fever was coming upon her. He sensed that she was scared, really scared of what was happening to her. He gathered her into his arms.

"It's okay," he said, "You don't have to go anywhere. We'll take care of this just like we talked about. . .I'm here."

She placed her head on his shoulder.

"Once the hypospray begins to take effect, I shall be fine for a couple of hours. I don't want the crew to know anything is amiss yet. Dr. Sanders has agreed to tell Lt. Commander Reed we are both ill and confined to quarters for the next 48 hours, but before that I wish to file my reports for President Borges and arrange for Lt. Sato to handle Captain Archer for the next few days."

"Okay, Captain," he said, "You're the boss. Is there anything I can do in the meantime?"

"Stay near me," she said, "and let me know if you begin to experience symptoms through me."

He squeezed her tight.

"I can do that, baby," he whispered.

Minutes later, she had stopped sweating. She washed her face in the bathroom, squared her shoulders and looked very Vulcan.

"I only have a few hours," she said, "We must hurry."

****

T'Pol and Trip slipped into the mess hall, barely noticed. The children were sitting in a circle around Jonathan Archer and Malcolm Reed, who were both telling the story of the Romulan minefield, each adding their own perspective. The children, who had all heard the story before, "oooohed" and "aaaahed" at various points and Lily even buried her face in her hands when they came to part where the section of the hull detached with the two men aboard.

Amanda, dressed in civilian clothes, approached her commanding officers.

"Can I offer either of you birthday cake?" she asked, smiling.

Trip had expected T'Pol to decline, but she nodded yes.

"I'll take some, too," said Trip.

As Amanda fetched the cake, Trip searched T'Pol's face. She was losing her impulse control, he could feel it.

As the story concluded, the children applauded and Lily climbed into her father's lap. Jonathan approached Trip and T'Pol.

"Do you remember speaking with me earlier today?" asked T'Pol.

"I do," he said, "but I haven't seen you today, Trip, have I?"

"Not that I remember, Sir," said Trip, smiling.

It was a good day when Jonathan Archer accepted his situation with humor.

"How are you, then?" asked the former Captain.

"As well as can be expected, under the circumstances."

"Are any of these kids yours?" asked Archer.

"Nah," said Trip, "The little boy, Michio, he's Hoshi's. And of course, you know Lily. But I'm just everyone's Uncle."

"Kids on a Starship," said Archer, "Who would have ever thought?"

Trip shook his head. It wasn't ideal, but the children sure had brightened up the awful day to day existence since Earth's destruction. Trip glanced over at T'Pol, who was still savoring her cake. He knew he needed to get her up to the bridge to finish her reports and soon. After that, he hoped she could focus on getting herself well.

"Excuse me, Captain," said Trip, "I need to speak to Malcolm for a second."

Trip and Malcolm had developed an even closer working relationship than they had had before in the preceding two years. All Trip had to do was gesture slightly, and Malcolm knew Trip needed to speak with him alone. He put Lily gently off his lap and sent her to the corner where a few of the children were petting Porthos.

"What's up, Commander?"

"T'Pol's got a Vulcan illness. It's not catching, but she's going to be out of it for the next two days. And I'm the one that's going to have to nurse her back to health."

Malcolm squinted at this. He was trying to imagine what peculiar Vulcan illness would require the First Officer's attention. Or the de-facto husband. Malcolm guessed that it was the latter role that Trip was going to be fulfilling. Fortunately, the two of them had several times visited the planet together for meetings with President Borges, and Malcolm had done fine while in command.

"You know I can handle it. Are you sure she'll be okay?" asked Malcolm, glancing over at the Captain.

"Dr. Sanders thinks so," said Trip.

Malcolm nodded, hoping that there would be no pirate attacks or any other trouble while T'Pol was sick.

****

Once the reports had all been filed, and Hoshi had agreed to visit Archer the next two mornings, Trip and T'Pol headed toward her quarters. Trip noticed that sweat was again beginning to form on her neck and at her temples. While they were in the turbolift, she boldly put her arms around him. He expected a kiss, but instead she put her fingers at his temple and he felt her created a telepathic link. Suddenly, he was awash in the fever that had gripped her.

When she saw that her link had been successful, she smiled a little, and then Trip was truly scared for her. She was losing control, and it wasn't a good thing for her. But thanks to the link, he knew what he needed to do.

"Let's get you to your quarters, now," he said forcefully.

The turbolift door opened and she pulled him out toward her quarters. Trip looked around, but most people were either on duty or at the party, which after the children had all been taken to bed, had turned into a grown-up gathering.

"Don't touch me," he ordered, just in case they ran into anyone.

He knew the last thing she would want was someone observing her un-Vulcan behavior.

"You go first," he said, "and I'll follow."

She did exactly as she was told, but a few times during the walk, she turned to look at him, as if to be sure the link had been effective.

It had. Trip was more in control than she was but not by much.

As soon as they got to her quarters, he shut and locked the door behind them.

She turned to look at him with wide eyes. He saw none of the logic and serenity he usually found there. He saw animalistic lust, but behind that there was something else. She was being gripped by this blood fever, but beneath it she was scared. This was a life or death matter, and on top of that her emotions were unraveling.

She approached him, but he held his hand up.

"Take off your clothes," he said.

She smiled again, just slightly, and started to obey his orders. Meanwhile, he strode into the bathroom and turned on the faucet in the small shower. He wanted to at least try and sooth the literal fever that was gripping her before getting down to business. A cold shower would at least bring down her body temperature.

She appeared behind him, naked.

"Get under the water," he ordered.

She snapped something in Vulcan, but she did as he asked. As soon as the cold spray hit her body, she closed her eyes. He could tell it was soothing her, but it certainly wasn't curing her.

She again said something in Vulcan and opened her eyes. He was still fully dressed, but she pulled him under the water with her. Their lips met, and he quickly lost whatever control he had been clinging to.

****

Trip awoke on the floor of her quarters, naked but covered by a blanket. Every inch of his body hurt as though he had been in a bad fight. What wasn't cut was bruised. Then remembered that it wasn't a fight. At least, not technically. _Pon Farr. Blood Fever._ No wonder the Vulcans never talked about it. It represented everything they fought against in their own primal nature. He recalled the first time he had had sex with her, and he remembered her expectations had been of a violent act. No wonder.

He sat up. Water was running in the bathroom. He made his way there and saw her tending to a green scrape on her elbow. He also saw that she had a bronze-colored bruise on her cheek, and though it was accidental, he was appalled with himself that he had been the cause.

"Let me help you," he said and he took the antiseptic cloth from her and gently cleaned the wound.

"Can you remember English?" he asked softly.

"Yes," she said, clearly thankful that the worst was behind them, "Thank you. Thank you for everything."

He smiled at her.

"That's what bondmates are for," he said, applying a bandage to her wound, "I'm sorry for hurting you."

"You saved my life," she said simply.

She began tending to his wounds, cleaning and bandaging a cut on his eye before focusing on the many scratches on his back.

"How are you feeling? I know we're through the worst of this, but do you think you'll be all better by tomorrow?"

She nodded.

"Already, I feel my serotonin levels returning to normal."

When she was through bandaging him up, he led her to her bed and made her slip under the covers. He joined her, putting his arms gently around her.

"You acquitted yourself well, husband," said T'Pol sleepily, "A Vulcan could not have done better."

Trip almost brought up that they weren't officially married, but then he realized that according to her culture, they were. That was what this business had been all about.

As she drifted off to sleep, he gently brushed the bruise on her cheek and was very grateful this would only happen every seven years.


	6. Chapter 6

_Rating: PG-13 for Angst._

_A/N: This chapter has a secondary but important human character involved with a same sex relationship, which is accepted by everyone. Also, Trip mentions his gay brother, who appears in the novel "The Good that Men Do"._

**Chapter 6**

Amanda Cole-Reed was curled up on the bathroom floor, hoping the last of the sickness had passed. Malcolm stood in the doorway, with Lily at his side.

"Are you sure we can't help at all?"

"No," said Amanda, "but you're sweet to offer."

"I'd be happy to hold your head next time," said Malcolm.

"You've done enough," snapped Amanda, "and you need to get to the command briefing. Especially since the captain and first officer are returning to duty this morning."

Malcolm folded his arms, and he sighed. He looked down at Lily, whose eyes were wide.

"Promise to get Mummy anything she needs?"

Lily nodded and smiled. Amanda's sickness had come and gone over the past three days, so she no longer appeared as concerned for her mother's well-being as she had been the first day.

"I'll see you this afternoon then," said Malcolm, "and remember to tell Hayes about the limits Sanders has put on your training."

Amanda nodded. With that, Malcolm kissed the top of Lily's head and disappeared out the door.

****

When Malcolm finally arrived to the morning briefing, only three minutes late, he nearly did a double take. Trip and T'Pol both appeared to have been in some sort of an accident. Trip had a cut on his eye, and she had a bruise on her cheek. He found himself wondering what kind of peculiar Vulcan illness would cause cuts and bruises.

"Sorry for being late," said Malcolm.

Trip glanced at the chronometer.

"Three whole minutes," he said, "but then again, I can't recall you ever being late before."

Malcolm smiled.

"Amanda's sick," he said.

"What is the illness?" asked T'Pol, "Has she seen the doctor? Is it contagious?"

Malcolm shook his head.

"She's seen the doctor, and she should be fine by now," he paused and then smirked, "It's morning sickness."

Trip grinned, and T'Pol raised an eyebrow. Vulcan women didn't get morning sickness, but T'Pol had no doubt learned of it since three of the other female crew members had become pregnant.

"That is agreeable news, Lt. Commander Reed," said T'Pol.

"Congratulations," said Trip, "It's about time."

"We wanted to wait until Lily felt like she was really one of the family. Four months ago she started calling us Mum and Dad, so we thought then it was a good time for her to get a sibling. She's excited to have a little brother."

"So it is boy?" said Trip.

Malcolm nodded. Then, he looked at the two of them again. He knew better than to ask why they were so battered, but he still felt he needed to say something.

"How are the two of you? Feeling better?"

They glanced at each other, quickly.

"I am well," she said.

"All fine," said Trip, sipping his coffee.

"I've not yet read your report of the previous two days," said T'Pol, "Is there anything critical I should know about?"

"It was quiet. In fact, we haven't had a major incident with pirates in at least six weeks. So, I think we should be prepared for one soon. They usually come in intervals of six to eight weeks, though that hasn't always been the case. Sometimes the window is smaller, sometimes larger, as you both know."

The three continued discussing security concerns, weapons upgrades and the recent intelligence reports about the Xindi positions.

****

Archer had been trouble when T'Pol was indisposed. The first day, he had accused Hoshi of being an alien impostor and had to be subdued by security before he hurt her. The second day, he had fallen into a deep despair and attempted to take his own life. He spent the rest of that day under deep sedation in sickbay. Dr. Sanders, who was quite young but one of only a handful of trained human physicians left, had suggested they keep Archer sedated.

"I cannot allow that," said T'Pol, who found the notion both cruel and disrespectful.

"Captain," said the young doctor, "it would make your life and everyone. . ."

"No," she said.

Dr. Sanders was an attractive, red-headed woman, about T'Pol's height but a little rounder and stockier with green eyes and freckles.

"How are you?" she asked, changing the subject. "It seems you and Commander Tucker came through your cycle none the worse for wear? Have you experienced any residual symptoms?"

T'Pol thought about this for a moment.

"I am still fatigued, but other than that I am fine."

"If you need more time to rest, take it," ordered the doctor, "or I'll order you to."

"That won't be necessary," replied T'Pol, "but I will retire early this evening."

"I'm going to ask Commander Tucker to keep a careful eye on you," she said, "I understand that is appropriate, given your relationship with each other."

T'Pol nodded. Dr. Sanders had known little of Vulcans before taking over for Phlox, but she had studied his notes as well as the Vulcan database.

"Security to Captain T'Pol," came the voice over the com.

"T'Pol here," replied the Captain.

"Captain Archer has awakened. We told him you would arrive soon to answer his questions."

"I'll be right there," said T'Pol.

"Let me know if you need me," said Sanders, sympathetically.

With that, T'Pol lifted herself off the bio bed and headed to the door. She ran into Hoshi on the way.

"Lt. Sato," she asked, "Are you well?"

"Oh," said Hoshi, "I'm fine. I was just assisting the doctor on a project. Translating some of the more complex interspecies medical files."

"Very good," said T'Pol, "Carry on."

"Thank you, Captain," said Hoshi.

****

An hour later, T'Pol sat across from Jonathan Archer. She had told him the entire, horrible story. Over the past years, she had learned that it was best to tell it quickly and without much embellishment. She also believed her Vulcan nature helped the story go down easier.

Archer went to his window, where he could see the planet below.

"So there a human settlement down there?" he asked.

"There are approximately 6,000 humans living on Ceti Alpha V," she said, "The is a small United Earth Government, let by President Antonio Borges."

Archer leaned his head against the window, for a moment she feared he would collapse. He didn't.

"How's the crew?"

"Those that survived the conflict are well. Phlox returned to Denobula two years ago. A young intern who was part of a Tellarite medical exchange program replaced him. She has proved a very quick learner. Our situation has given her much experience. You have been impressed, the times you have met her."

T'Pol didn't think it was necessary to mention the many times their new doctor had had to sedate him.

"How's Trip?" said Archer, "He survived, didn't he?"

T'Pol nodded.

"He is well. He has proved invaluable to me as a first officer."

Archer sighed.

"That doesn't surprise me at all. Do you think he'd come by?"

"He usually does, on the days you request it."

The conversation continued, until T'Pol could no longer spare anymore time.

****

About a week later, T'Pol was walking in the hall near sickbay, and she saw Dr. Sanders and Lt. Sato together. Something about the way they were interacting made her hang back around a curve and not let her presence be known. Firstly, her position often made people nervous, and secondly, their body language was strange to her. She watched for awhile, and then saw the two women kiss each other, not as friends, but as mates.

T'Pol remained hidden around the corner until they separated. Her keen Vulcan hearing did make out their conversation.

"I'll see you later, sweetie," said Dr. Sanders.

"Don't be late," smiled Hoshi, who headed toward T'Pol.

T'Pol continued down the hall as if she had heard nothing.

"Good evening, Lt," she said, walking by.

"Hi Captain," said Hoshi cheerfully.

T'Pol was not offended, as several human members of the crew had paired off with members of their own gender. Same sex mating was a common enough phenomena among humans and even existed among Vulcans. One of the few grounds for the dissolution of a Vulcan marriage was the inability of one partner to form a matebond with the other, often because a bond already existed with a third party. Sometimes those extra-marital bonds were formed with a member of the same gender. However, when Vulcans bonded it was for life. Hoshi had until recently been mated with Corporal Hawkins. T'Pol knew they had separated, and he was now seeing another woman. But she was surprised at Hoshi's new relationship.

That night, she broached the subject with Trip while they were lying in bed, enjoying the closeness of their matebond.

"Well, I'll be damned. No wonder Hoshi's been loitering around sickbay so much lately," he laughed, "Good for her. Hawkins didn't treat her right.'

T'Pol remained puzzled.

"You don't have same sex couples on Vulcan?"

"We do, but we are generally not. . .flexible in regards to which gender we are attracted to."

Trip pulled her closer and ran his fingers through her hair. Through their bond, he could tell that the same sex thing didn't bother her nearly as much as the general idea of rotating partners.

"Humans are flexible I mean, most of us go one way or another, but the consensus is that we all have an ability to be. . .flexible under the right circumstances. Some people are more open to it than others. Clearly, Hoshi's just open."

T'Pol sat up and looked him in the eyes.

"Have you ever been flexible?"

Trip smiled.

"No. Not that I didn't have opportunity, but I've just always preferred girls. . .my brother Bert went the other way. He was married to man, and they adopted a little boy. . .we kind of had a deal when we were young. I had dibs on the girls and he the boys."

Trip spoke wistfully as he remembered his dead brother.

"I'm sorry to bring up unpleasant thoughts," she said, putting her head on his shoulder.

"They're not unpleasant," he said, "Just sad. Albert was my big brother. He always looked out for me. Taught me how to deal with bullies - ironically, he also taught me how to talk to girls. I guess he knew how because he preferred talking to them over dating them. I do miss him."

"I had no siblings," said T'Pol.

"Was that lonely?" he asked.

"I have nothing to compare it to," she said logically.

"I loved having siblings. Lizzie and Bert were like ready-made friends. All three of us were pretty tight. . . you know, I'd give anything to have them back. But I can't think of people I'd rather have as my new family . . .you. . .Malcolm and Amanda. . .Hoshi. . .if we've got to be stuck in this existence. . .I'm glad to be stuck with all of you."

T'Pol cuddled up to him. Even after the years had passed, she always sensed terrible sorrow in Trip. But when he spoke of her and the others as a new family, the sorrow faded.

"I love you," he whispered in her ear.

She buried her face in his chest. By now, she knew he needed to say those words, but it was antithetical to her culture. She knew he loved her, and he knew she loved him back. The bond between them made it so. But he was still human, and she had to say it. She took a deep breath.

"And I love you," she said softly.

"Thanks, darlin'," he said, as they drifted off to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

_Rating: PG-13 for angst_

**Chapter 7**

The pirates had been destroyed, thanks in no small part to the efforts of _Enterprise_ and _The Endeavor_, both which took damage but prevailed in the melee with three small, swift ships. The first time the surviving humans had encountered pirates, they had merely beaten back the little ships and hoped that would be enough. But inevitably, the pirates would return with a stronger, bigger fleet. So, Captain T'Pol had given the order for _Enterprise_ and _The Endeavor_ not to just defend the colony but to aggressively destroy the pirate ships. While this strategy didn't stop the attacks, it lessened their frequency.

"Report, Commander," she said in the comm.

"Minimal damage, Captain," said Trip, "We should be back to normal in about three hours."

"Understood," said T'Pol, "Good Work, Lt. Commander Reed," said T'Pol as she headed into her ready room.

Malcolm watched her go. He had always respected T'Pol, but now he felt that none of them would be alive without her. Her application of logic in the most difficult of situations had been their saving grace more than once. He was very grateful, as most of the crew was, especially since she could have long ago fled to the safety of Vulcan.

Malcolm tapped the comm.

"Corporal Cole, do you have a report?"

"No enemies reached the ground, sir," replied Amanda in her professional tone, "So, the MACOs will be returning to the ships within the hour."

"Good," said Malcolm, "Reed out."

Amanda could no longer be a part of the combat teams, given her condition, but she was adept at coordinating operations. Since several previous pirate attacks managed to land people on the surface, it had become standard to dispatch MACOs to the surface.

Malcolm and Amanda had talked about moving to the surface, once the baby was born, but they had decided against it. The ship already had the ten children that had been adopted, and four others had been born. _Enterprise_ was becoming a generational ship, and their new son would be a part of it. It wasn't an ideal future, but then no one's future was ideal.

****

T'Pol's conversation with Archer later that day was intense. He questioned her about everything from the motivation of the Xindi to the nature of the attack to the physiology of his own illness. She answered each question patiently, but when she got up to leave and attend to her other duties, he tried to stop her.

This was a common enough occurrence, and she remained calm.

"Captain," she said softly, "I've other duties on this ship. If you like, I'll send Lt. Sato in to answer any more of your questions. . ."

"_Lieutenant_ Sato?" replied Archer skeptically.

"Two and a half years have past. . ."

The room began to spin, and T'Pol grabbed the edge of the desk to keep her balance.

"T'Pol are you okay?" asked Archer, anger disappearing from his voice.

"No," she said as blackness consumed her.

Archer managed to keep her from falling, and he swept her into his arms. He opened the door to his quarters and told the officers he was taking her to sickbay. The guards made no protest, one merely followed the former captain as he carried the current one. In the turbolift, T'Pol's eyes opened.

"What happened?"

"I don't know," said Archer, "I'm getting you to Phlox."

However, when he arrived at sickbay, Archer found a red-headed human woman in place of Phlox.

"What happened, Captain Archer?" asked Dr. Sanders.

"She blacked out," said Archer, who gently placed T'Pol on the biobed.

"Could you stand back, Captain Archer?" said Sanders, who gently began examining T'Pol and taking vitals, "Did you get hit or bumped during the combat this morning, Captain?"

"No," said Archer.

Sanders bit her lip. She always tried to refer to the two captains by name, so as not to cause Archer undue stress.

"I wasn't talking to you," she said.

"No, I am unharmed" said T'Pol, "and I am feeling well again. I should return to the bridge."

"Not quite yet," replied Sanders, "I think you ought to get some fluids in you and rest for a bit. And while you're here, Captain Archer, I might as well take a look at you. Last time we met, I found you to be in near perfect health, aside from your memory issue."

"How long has Phlox been gone?"

"About two years," said T'Pol, who was starting to feel better.

"All of your vitals are normal, and you don't appear to have hit your head. Have you been eating?" asked Sanders.

"My behavior has been as it always has been," said T'Pol, glancing over at Archer.

"Well," said Sanders, "I'm going to have a steward bring you down some of your favorite tea, and I want you to drink it. Then, I'll let you get back to the bridge."

Sanders then turned to Captain Archer and began examining him, patiently answering all his questions about her background and how she had survived the Xindi attack.

****

An hour and a half later, T'Pol left Archer in Sanders's care and headed toward the bridge. She ran smack into Trip as he was exiting the turbolift.

"I was just coming to see you," he said, "Are you all right?"

She nodded.

"It was merely a dizzy spell. Due to the stress of the recent attacks, I may require more meditation," she said.

The hallway was empty, so he put his hand on her cheek. It was Vulcan warm, but she didn't seem fevered.

"I assure you," said T'Pol, "Dr. Sanders did not find anything wrong with me."

Trip searched both her face and briefly her mind for any sign of deception, and he found none. He then looked around to see if anyone was watching. They weren't, so he planted a kiss on her lips.

"I'll see you tonight?"

She nodded, and she entered the turbolift, which was on its way up rather than down. She returned to the bridge to finish her shift.

Two days later, Dr. Saunders summoned T'Pol back to sickbay. Her message was vague, so T'Pol assumed it was ship's business the doctor needed to talk about. She arrived to find the doctor examining some instruments and no patients on any of the biobeds. It was a good day, when no one was sick or injured.

"Sit down, Captain," said Dr. Sanders, gesturing to the bio bed.

T'Pol realized that she had been summoned as a patient, so she obeyed the doctor.

"I was looking over your blood test from the other day and something struck me as odd. Not bad. Just. . .unusual."

T'Pol was silent.

"At first, I thought it was a residual hormonal imbalance from your recent mating cycle. But then, I did some checking in the Vulcan medical database. So, I want to run one quick test on you to see if I can explain this."

Dr. Sanders approached T'Pol with a medical tricorder, and she took a skin sample from T'Pol's palm.

"Am I ill, doctor?" said T'Pol.

Vulcans spoke little about pon farr or its potential health consequences, so she didn't know if she was at risk for anything. Dr. Sanders appeared to be studying her instruments carefully.

"You're not ill. According to this, you're pregnant."

"That's not possible," said T'Pol, calmly, "Your data must be incorrect."

Dr. Sanders nodded.

"It's possible that you are experiencing a phantom pregnancy. After going through Pon Farr, your body simply expected to be pregnant so it is producing the appropriate hormones. But there's nothing in this test that says you aren't pregnant."

T'Pol kept her Vulcan calm since she was certain this was a mistake.

"Humans and Vulcans have never mated successfully," said T'Pol.

Dr. Sanders nodded.

"I've looked into that, but you also need to remember that there have been very few attempts at Vulcan/Human mating. As near as I can see, in the last hundred years there have been only a handful of documented cases of Human/Vulcan sexual relations, and only five of them have occurred during pon farr. That's hardly a definitive number, and in all five of the pon farr cases, it was a human female mating with a Vulcan male."

T'Pol was unmoved by this.

"We are biologically incompatible," she said calmly.

Dr. Sanders nodded.

"It would seem so. However, there is a documented case of a Vulcan/Andorian hybrid child being conceived naturally. And Vulcans and Andorians are even further apart genetically than Vulcans and Humans. But both the Vulcan mother and the Andorian father carried an unusual gene mutation that allowed for fertilization. It was estimated that only 1 in 100,000 Vulcans carried it and 1 in 75,000 Andorians."

T'Pol thought carefully about this news. She wasn't sure if she was more surprised at the idea of a Vulcan and Andorian mating at all or the fact that they had a child. She briefly wondered how such a pairing had happened.

"Here's what I suggest," said Dr. Sanders, "Think of yourself as pregnant until next month, when I'll be able to put you in the imaging chamber and find out of if this pregnancy is real or not. Don't drink alcohol, avoid radiation and try not to stress out. You don't need to tell anyone, except of course Commander Tucker. If next month, we learn this is a false alarm, then no harm, no foul. But if it isn't, then you will have done the right thing."

T'Pol nodded in agreement, certain that it was a false alarm.

"You have suggested a logical course," she said.

"Don't hesitate to come to sickbay if you need anything or have any questions," said Dr. Sanders.

"Thank you, Doctor," she said formally and headed back toward the bridge.

On the way up, she briefly considered the remote possibility that this was not a false alarm. However, it was a completely illogical notion, so she put it out of her mind. On the way, she passed a cheerful looking Amanda Cole, who had just started showing the signs of her pregnancy.

T'Pol felt a tinge of regret. She would likely be a mother by now, had she returned to Vulcan and married Koss. Even though she knew what she had been giving up, sometimes the thought of it still made her feel a bit empty.

****

Since the strange visit to Dr. Sanders, T'Pol had accessed all the Vulcan serenity she had and then returned to her quarters for additional meditation. Since her fainting spell, she had added an extra 40 minutes of meditation to her daily schedule. Twenty minutes in the morning, twenty in the evening. It had helped center her, and she knew it had allowed her to deal with her phantom pregnancy with appropriate logic.

As she stared at the candle, she thought about what to tell Trip. He would be able to tell if she was suppressing information, but on the other hand, she did not want to upset or alarm him. He might not react with the same logic as her, which would make him anxious for the next month. The situation presented a quite a quandary.

The door opened, and she didn't move. Trip had long ago stopped ringing the chime, since they essentially shared both their quarters. She didn't move, and he sat down across from her on the floor.

"What's on your mind?" he said, tentatively.

"I don't wish to speak of it yet," she said, honestly.

He searched her face, and it was as usual impossible to read. Her thoughts were a little easier at this point.

"You saw the doctor," he said.

She looked at him, but said nothing.

"I know, you don't want to talk about it. . .but just tell me you're okay."

He placed his hand in hers, and she felt the worry in him.

"I'm fine. I'm just experiencing a side effect of. . .of my recent . . ."

She never stuttered, unless she was talking about something Vulcans didn't talk about.

"I get it. What kind of side effect?"

"A hormonal imbalance. It was likely responsible for my fainting spell. Dr. Sanders believes it will work itself out."

"She can't fix it? Sounds like it would be pretty easy to. . ."

Trip started to sense something bigger going on. The truth popped into his head, most likely because she wanted him to know. His jaw dropped open. She felt shock in him.

"It is unlikely to be true. It is most probably a false alarm."

T'Pol explained everything the doctor had told her, and Trip stood up and pulled her into a hug. It wasn't what she needed, but she sensed that he needed it.

"What are the odds? That it's true?"

"Very slim, which is why I did not wish to tell you."

He squeezed her tight, and she sensed the most peculiar mix of hope and anxiety from him as the earlier shock faded.

"I thought you did not wish to bring a child into this existence."

"I don't," he said, "It wouldn't be logical, but. . .I don't know. Maybe humans aren't logical about this stuff. Now that there's a chance. . . I half want it to be true. Half not. "

"A slim chance," she said again.

"But not impossible," said Trip, "We should talk about what to do, if it _is_ true."

He led her to the bed, where they sat down, together. He sensed she thought speculating on such an unlikely outcome was illogical, but he disagreed. In fact, he had a very strong instinct that she was in denial. For whatever reason, his human instincts told him that this wasn't a false alarm.

"I guess we'll just have to do what Malcolm and Amanda and the others are doing. . ."

"The child would be half Vulcan and therefor different from all the other children. . .and we don't know how human or how Vulcan he or she would be . . ."

Her voice trailed off.

"Well," he said getting up, "I suppose the answers will just present themselves. I need a shower. Care to join?"

She nodded and took his hand. Unlike most nights, they didn't engage in sexual relations. Instead, as they curled up together, Trip gradually got her to talk about the possibility that her condition was not a phantom.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I don't own this world. Don't profit or anything seedy like that.

_A/N: Fasten your seat belts, angst aplenty follows._

**Chapter 8 **

Trip paced outside the imaging chamber, like the expectant father he was sure he was. T'Pol's symptoms had not lessened in the previous month, and even she was beginning to doubt her pregnancy was a false one. Dr. Sanders began tapping into the control and looking at the readings.

"How's Hoshi?" asked Trip, by way of conversation.

Dr. Sanders smiled, amazed at how fast word got around the ship. She had let Hoshi, who was the person everyone on the ship knew and loved, be the one to begin telling people about them. They had attended the last three movie nights together, as well.

"Didn't you see her this morning?" asked Dr. Sanders with a twinkle in her eye.

"Yeah, but someone's partner often knows better than the person," said Trip.

"True enough. Hoshi's been well. A little tired, like we all are, but she's fine. Speaking of which, how has our Captain been? Has she been taking care of herself?"

Trip smiled.

"I've been making sure of it," he said.

Dr. Sanders looked up at the scans, and as she pushed a button, the imaging chamber door opened and the gurney slowly slid out. T'Pol sat up and turned to examine the scans.

"Well," said Dr. Sanders, "it seems this is one for the record books."

Trip moved quickly to T'Pol's side and placed a hand on her shoulder. Her face appeared a mask of Vulcan calm, but he knew otherwise.

Dr. Sanders tapped on the console and a vivd, color image appeared on the screen. It showed the fetus she carried. T'Pol closed her eyes.

"Are you okay?" asked Trip.

"Yes," she replied softly.

Sanders brought up another image. It was a genetic profile.

"This is the child's genetic makeup," she said, "It appears that most Vulcan genes dominate human ones. I'll have to study it further to see if there are any exceptions, but this baby is going to be a Vulcan for all practical purposes. She'll have pointed ears and copper blood, that's for sure."

Trip smiled widely, and he let T'Pol rest her head on his shoulder.

"It's a girl?" he asked.

Dr. Sanders nodded.

"We'll have to watch you carefully. Obviously, we don't know what complications will arise. But continue as you have been, and I'll want to see you once a week from now on. More if you experience any unusual symptoms. Commander Tucker, I'm going to rely on you to make sure she follows all my instructions."

T'Pol nodded, meekly.

"Will do, doc," he said.

* * *

A few hours later, Trip and T'pol sat in the captain's mess with Archer. Chef had prepared one of Archer's favorite meals, and the former captain was in an excellent mood that day because T'Pol hadn't told him the truth of their situation. He didn't know Earth had been destroyed, and he was intent on figuring out a way to be useful to the mission he didn't know had failed.

For his part, Trip was in such a good mood over the miracle of T'Pol's pregnancy, he didn't mind being part of the deception at all. T'Pol was quieter, but she welcomed the distraction of playacting for Archer.

Her stomach was unsettled, so she simply ate a bowl of Plomeek soup.

"How's the soup?" asked Archer.

"It is acceptable," said T'Pol.

Archer turned to Trip.

"How long have you two been seeing each other?" asked Archer, pointedly.

Trip looked at T'Pol, and she shrugged slightly. Archer wasn't a fool, and he knew them both very well. A few times before, after watching the pair who had been his senior officers interact, he had guessed they had become more than friends.

"Awhile," said Trip.

"Was something going on before I got sick?" asked Archer amiably.

"Not technically,' said Trip, "but something was going on."

He winked across the table at T'Pol, who realized she had not known Trip to be this happy since before the first Xindi attack. She actually felt true, deep happiness flowing from his mind.

She turned and looked at Archer. The last time he had figured them out, he had reacted jealously and accused them of being irresponsible. This time, he seemed pleased.

"Does the high command know about you two?"

Trip shook his head, and he answered honestly.

"Nope," he said, "Soval figured out T'Pol bonded with someone, but he thinks it's you, Captain. T'Pol didn't correct him. With your sickness, it wouldn't be logical for Soval to get on your case. With me, I'd never hear the end of it."

Archer actually laughed.

"Glad I could be of help. . . Bonded? What does that mean?"

T'Pol's eyes widened, but then she calmed herself. It's not like Archer would remember the conversation, so she could speak freely.

"Vulcans form a telepathic connection with their mates. I didn't know one could form with a human, but it did," she said simply.

"Well," said Archer, "I wish I had something better to toast you two with, but congratulations."

T'Pol nodded, and Trip clinked a glass with his old friend, wishing he could tell Archer the whole truth. Then again, thought Trip, Archer was eventually going to notice that T'Pol was pregnant. But they'd cross that bridge when they came to it.

* * *

That night, Trip finally began to sense that T'Pol wasn't as happy as he was. It wasn't as if she didn't want the child, but her mind was awash in worry and sadness for the child's future. For her future. For Trip's future.

"It'll be okay, T'Pol," he said, taking her hand in his.

He felt her shaking, actually shaking. He decided it was time for some old-fashioned neural pressure to calm her. He had read in the Vulcan database that the practice was good for the health of both mother and baby.

"C'mon," he said, "Lie down."

She obeyed, and she closed her eyes as he skillfully applied pressure to the various nodes in her back and legs and feet. After a long while, she felt him kissing the back of her neck. Then, he moved to the tip of her ear.

"Dr. Sanders says I'm to relieve your stress in any way possible," he whispered in her ear, "Neural pressure is one way, but I can think of another way as well."

He slipped his hand down her pajamas bottoms and found a very specific neural node that had become his favorite. Whatever protest he sensed in her melted away, and when he turned her over, her lips met his with a hard, passionate kiss. Soon, they were both naked and spent, and he lay his head on her still taut belly.

"You realize," said T'Pol softly, "that you will soon be the Captain of _Enterprise_."

Trip tensed up a bit, and then he kissed her navel.

"I suppose a pregnant captain isn't a good idea. . .not for the ship. . .not for you . . .or her. . .but maybe we could both go live on the surface. . .raise her there."

T'Pol ran her fingers through his hair.

"The ship needs you. No one knows her better than you, and the crew wouldn't trust anyone besides you. Malcolm will make a fine first officer, but he's not ready to be Captain. It _must_ be you."

Trip sighed. The colony needed to know they were protected, and _Enterprise_ was the flagship. The great hope of humanity.

"I know," he said sadly, "but what will you do? Take care of the baby? Take care of Archer? It'll be a step down. . ."

"That is irrelevant," she said, "I will do what is best for all parties."

He sensed something cryptic both in her words and in her feelings. It unsettled him a bit, but he pushed it into the back of his mind. It wasn't going to be easy, but this child had given him hope that all was not lost. He had to believe that things would get better.

* * *

Two weeks later, Hoshi brought a PADD into T'Pol's ready room.

"You've got two letters from Vulcan," said Hoshi, "One is from Soval. One is from the address you contacted last week. I haven't translated them."

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

"How are you feeling?" asked a smiling Hoshi, "If I may ask?"

T'Pol raised her eyebrow. She knew better than to think Dr. Sanders had violated her confidentiality, but she wanted to know how Hoshi knew.

"Trip told me two days ago. But don't blame him. I guessed. Your gate has changed just slightly, and you've stopped drinking alcohol. And you've gone to see the doctor once a week. I asked Trip about it and he smiled so big I thought he would burst. That sort of confirmed it."

T'Pol sighed.

"I am well. We will be making the announcement official once I've reached my second phase. . .thank you for your concern."

"Congratulations, Captain," said Hoshi as she headed back to the bridge.

Alone in the ready room, T'Pol first read the letter from Soval, which contained the usual reports about the Xindi and the usual entreaty for her to return to Vulcan. She then accessed the second letter. When she finished reading it, she placed her head on the desk and used every bit of control she possessed to keep from weeping.

* * *

That night, when Trip arrived at her quarters, he sensed a peculiar nothingness from her. It was as if she put up a wall between them, effectively blocking their bond. The emptiness he felt was chilling.

She sat on the bed, still in her uniform.

"What's wrong? Did something happen with the baby?" he asked, rushing to her side.

"The baby is healthy. Dr. Sanders believes I will carry her to term," said T'Pol.

Trip searched her eyes, and he saw nothing but Vulcan control in them.

"Then what's wrong?"

"I received a letter from my mother today," she said softly.

"Your mother? I thought she wasn't talking to you. Something about you having disgraced your family for about twenty different Vulcan reasons. . ."

T'Pol nodded.

"I sent her a letter last week telling her of my condition and that the child will be essentially Vulcan. She has agreed to raise her on Vulcan, as a Vulcan. This is the most logical choice for the child."

Trip inhaled sharply, and then he stood up. He leaned against the bulkhead, unable to look at her.

"You can't be serious. . . "

He felt her eyes on him, and he knew she was deadly serious. But he was, too. A rage like he hadn't felt since the days right after Earth's destruction flowed through him and he sent it all right toward her. She began to tremble.

"She's our child. . my child. . ." he stuttered.

"She's a Vulcan," said T'Pol, "What future will she have living here? She'll be an outcast. . among refugees. Vulcan still exists, she'll have a chance for an education and a normal life. . .living among people who can teach her to control her emotions. . . emotions that you can't begin to help her understand. Among humans, she will only suffer. . ."

"You think the Vulcans will accept a half-human?" asked Trip, his voice was now desperate.

"They won't know. Dr. Sanders believes that only an examination of her genome would reveal her human ancestry. . ."

"But she'll know," said Trip, "She'll have to know. . ."

"She will know," said T'Pol softly, "but think logically Trip. What are the odds this colony will survive? What are the odds that humanity will survive? She'll be better off there, and you know it."

Trip slid to the floor. He wanted to rush over to her and convince her she was wrong. Convince her everything would be okay. But it wasn't okay. It hadn't been okay since the day Archer had gotten sick.

"All three of us can go live on Vulcan," said Trip, "We'll find a way to fit in. . ."

"Would you really abandon this ship? Your people? When they need you?"

Trip closed his eyes. He couldn't do that, and they both knew it.

"What about you? You can go back to Vulcan with her."

T'Pol shook her head.

"Long ago, I made my choice. I belong here, among your people. You need me. Archer needs me. I won't go. Besides, with my disgrace. . .my mother doesn't wish me to return. That was one of the conditions for her accepting the child."

T'Pol suddenly crossed the room, and she knelt beside him but did not touch him.

"I understand this might cause you to hate me," she said, "but I must do what is best for her. _We_ must do what is best for her."

T'Pol reached up, and she put her fingers on Trip's temple. She let the bond energy flow between them and also through the child. This action would link his mind to the child's mind, so that no matter how far away their daughter was, she would always know that her parents loved her.

Trip finally looked into her eyes, and it was clear he comprehended what she had done. He couldn't speak, and so she simply pulled him into her arms and allowed him to cry.


	9. Chapter 9

_Rating: PG-13 for Angst_

_Disclaimer: Not mine._

_Author's note: Angst, Angst and some angst on top that for good measure. But there's only one more chapter to go, so hang tight._

**Chapter 9**

The little house on Ceti Alpha V had proved a surprisingly comfortable place for T'Pol to wait for the birth of her daughter. The natural light and fresh air proved a welcome change, and she was grateful to no longer have the burden of being captain.

Around the fifth month of her pregnancy, Dr. Sanders had determined it would be safer for T'Pol to spend the remaining weeks before the birth planetside, given that the gravity there was more Vulcan-like and healthier for the child.

After a week or so of solitude, T'Pol suggested that Archer be allowed to join her. Trip had at first balked at the idea, citing the extra stress, but T'Pol had argued that it would give her something to occupy her mind and allow her to feel useful. When the first few days had gone smoothly, Trip had reluctantly agreed to allow Archer to stay with her until the baby was born. Since Trip couldn't be there for her, he was glad that she at least had someone to talk to during those long days.

As she fed Porthos his morning meal, Archer came up behind her. As the weeks passed, she found her friendship with her former superior officer evolving into something almost like kinship. She imagined that this would be what it would be like to have a sibling.

"I'm not the father, am I?"

_Not quite like a sibling_, she thought.

"No," she said, "but you ask that every day. And no, it's not your concern who is."

"The father must be a Vulcan, then," said Archer.

T'Pol sighed but she said nothing.

T'Pol had learned to deal with these questions, and she had strangely become grateful for them. Once she could no longer hide her condition, she and her child gave Archer something to focus on besides the terrible situation they had found themselves in.

"You look about ready to drop that kid," said Archer.

"My date is set for two weeks from now," she said, "I will return to the ship, as the doctor has all her medical equipment there."

"You must be excited," said Archer.

"I am grateful the child appears healthy, and I look forward to her birth," said T'Pol without emotion.

****

For his part, Trip had gotten used to the transporter. He beamed down to the surface as often as he could, checking up on T'Pol and pretending that everything was normal. Part of him hoped she would change her mind about sending the baby to Vulcan, but deep down he knew better. During those visits, he focused on T'Pol and the baby's physical well-being and spoke of little else. The bond between them still existed, would always exist, but it had become a source of pain rather than solace. When he wasn't with her, he poured all his energy into being captain.

Making matters worse, Amanda had given birth to a healthy baby boy, and although Malcolm was doing his best not to show his joy when he was around Trip, he wasn't doing a very good job.

"It's okay, Mal," he said, "I'm happy that you're happy."

"I know it's none of my business, but are you sure she won't change her mind?"

Trip rubbed his face with his hands. He felt enormously tired, and he had gained new respect for both Archer and T'Pol in the last few months. It wasn't easy being captain, and the situation with T'Pol only added to the sense that he was slowly being ripped apart.

"Honestly, Mal, I don't think I'd let her change her mind. If the baby was human, that would be different. But T'Pol's right. It isn't logical to raise her here."

Malcolm sighed.

"Well," said Malcolm, "You're handling it well. . . I don't know what I'd do if there was a safe place I could send Lily and Gavin - where I'd know for certain they'd live to grow up. . . go off to university. . .have children of their own. Every day when I send Lily off to school, three decks away, I remind myself it might be the last time I see her."

Trip was silent.

"When does T'Pol's mother arrive?" asked Malcolm.

"Next week," sighed Trip.

****

Two days before her mother was to arrive, T'Pol returned to _Enterprise_ in a little ship that the colonists used to transport people up to the starships in orbit. Hoshi had agreed to stay on the surface with Archer so T'Pol could focus all her energies on the birth. Alone, Trip met her at the airlock and took her bag from her.

"Where will I be staying?" asked T'Pol, assuming she would lodge in sickbay.

"There's plenty of room for you in the captain's quarters," said Trip, softly, "I'd like to spend as much time with her as I can . . .before."

T'Pol nodded, and they walked in silence toward Trip's new quarters. After they arrived, the pair stood awkwardly for a few moments, and then T'Pol spoke.

"We have been calling the child 'her' for months now. She needs a name," said T'Pol, "and you should be the one to give it to her."

Trip put a hand on her stomach. He had felt the child kick many times, and through the bond, he had sensed her mind coming into sentience. He knew that she liked it when her mother listened to jazz and that she preferred it when her mother drank chamomile tea instead of mint tea.

"I don't know many Vulcan names," sighed Trip.

"You may consult that Vulcan database," suggested T'Pol.

Trip thought for a moment.

"I think I like T'Mir," he said, "after your foremother who spent time on Earth."

Trip put his hand in T'Pol's.

"I think she approves," he said, "So T'Mir it is."

"It is an agreeable name," said T'Pol sadly.

****

Across the table in the captain's mess, T'Les looked at her daughter coldly, and then she turned to Trip.

"So, Captain Tucker, you are the reason my daughter has disgraced herself. Soval assumed it was Jonathan Archer, but then again, Soval was never very astute about women."

Before Trip could leap to T'Pol's defense, T'Pol lifted a hand and spoke, equally coldly.

"I chose to stay among humans long before I bonded with Trip," said T'Pol and then she looked into Trip's eyes, "He simply made the situation more bearable."

"Do you deny that you would have returned to Vulcan if it were not for this man?"

"Yes," said T'Pol, "So logically, you should deduce that without him I would be dead."

Trip was deeply saddened by this conversation, but not for the obvious reasons. T'Pol and T'Les's tense exchange reminded him so much of his sister and his mother that he almost laughed. Then, he remembered that both his mother and sister were dead. But he figured that only a mother who loved her daughter dearly would come light years into a war zone to see her give birth, only to express her disapproval of the son-in-law.

At least he could comfort himself with the fact that Vulcans were not all that different from humans, despite what they would have everyone believe.

"We've named the girl T'Mir," said Trip.

T'Les thought about this for a moment.

"It is a good name," she said.

"Trip chose it," said T'Pol, sipping on her chamomile tea.

T'Les stared at Trip across the table, and he stared back.

"It does you great honor," said T'Les, "that you are willing to put your daughter's welfare over your own desire for her company, Captain. I can only hope that my granddaughter will inherit that quality."

"T'Pol's giving her up, too," replied Trip.

"Yes," said T'Les, "but that is the Vulcan way. I realize as a human such un-selfishness does not come naturally."

Trip smirked, and he couldn't argue with that. Letting go of T'Mir would be the most unnatural thing he had ever done.

****

Trip thought he would be the one that needed comforting, but after T'Les left with their tiny girl in her arms, it was T'Pol that unraveled. At first, Trip thought she had gone into a deep meditative state, but then he realized that she was nearly catatonic, whispering in Vulcan to herself. He feared for her sanity.

Dr. Sanders sedated her, and Trip carried her back to his quarters where she slept for nearly twenty-four hours.

Thinking it was better to let her be, Trip completed his shift on the bridge and then returned to his quarters to find her awake. He said nothing, but he made her some tea and brought it to her.

"I haven't had mint tea in months," said T'Pol, "because she didn't like it."

"You're a good mother," he said softly, "and she'll always know that."

He took the mug from her shaking hands, and he entwined his fingers into hers. With this Vulcan gesture, he helped her gather up the shreds of her emotional control. He also realized that she would never be the same after this.

_At least_, he thought sorrowfully, _the two of them would always have that in common._


	10. Chapter 10

_Disclaimer: See Previous chapters._

_Rating: PG-13 for violence and angst._

**Chapter 10**

Two days after T'Les left for Vulcan, T'Pol returned to the surface of Ceti Alpha V. She concentrated on caring for Archer, and Trip threw himself in the heavy burden of being captain. Weeks turned into months. T'Pol sometimes corresponded with people from the ship, especially Hoshi, who often wrote to inquire about Archer's well-being. Trip sometimes contacted her, but it was always about ship's operations or some matter concerning Vulcan diplomacy. The tone was formal, that of a current captain speaking to the former one.

Then, almost two years after the birth of their child, T'Pol was tending to the vegetable garden in her front yard when Trip appeared at the gate. He wore his Starfleet uniform with the gold stripes, and he held a bouquet of lilacs from the ship's garden. _Enterprise_ had been carrying botanical samples to share with other species they met during their explorations, and now that garden contained precious remains of Earth's stunning horticultural diversity.

"Evenin'," said Trip.

T'Pol noticed a few new lines on his face and dark circles beneath his eyes. It did not surprise her, given his great responsibilities. She took the flowers and inhaled their scent.

"It is agreeable to see you, Captain," said T'Pol.

Before they could speak further, Archer appeared in door and came out to greet his old friend. Soon, the three of them sat at the kitchen table and talked of their early adventures together. The two men even laughed, and T'Pol's eyes sparkled.

Eventually, Archer's brain injury caused him to fatigue, and he retired for the evening. Trip lingered and helped her clean up the dishes. As T'Pol placed the last plate in the cabinet, she turned to him.

"Would you care for some wine?"

"There's wine?"

"It's the first vintage. Pinot noir grapes grow well in the soil here. Due to his injury, Archer can not share it with me."

T'Pol pulled a jug and two glasses down from the shelf. They sat in the small living room and talked. She spoke of the long, tedious days of caring for Archer, and he spoke of the day-to-day ship operations and about various members of the crew. Soon, however, there was nothing more to say and they were in each other's arms. He carried her into her small bedroom, where there was no future and no past.

Much later, as they held each other before drifting to sleep he thought the words _All we have is right now_, and he knew she heard them.

***

After that, Trip visited regularly, although not as often as he would have liked. Two or three times a month he managed to slip away to the surface but never more than that. Malcolm was becoming more confident as a stand-in captain, but there were always issues to sort out and decisions that had to be the captain's and the captain's alone.

Sometimes, Trip would arrive at the front gate bearing gifts from the ship, as he had the first day. He would spend time with Archer, and in doing so, lift some of the daily burden from her. Other times, he would just materialize in her room late at night as if he was a clandestine lover, and they were engaged in an illicit affair. The irony wasn't lost on either of them.

They were lovers and bondmates, but also friends who understood one another. He would talk to her about all the decisions he had to make each day, and she would advise and support him as if she was still the first officer.

One day, about a year after their reunion, he brought at PADD with him. He showed it to her, and she realized it was a letter from her mother, written in English.

"She started writing me a couple months ago," said Trip, "asking me about human things. Seems T'Mir's human side sometimes surfaces, and she wanted advice. T'Mir dreams a lot, and I guess Vulcan kids don't do that so your mom wanted to know what to do."

T'Pol put her hand over her mouth and closed her eyes.

"I told T'Les to read her a story before making her go back to sleep. Since Vulcans don't do bedtime stories, I forwarded a file of _Goodnight Moon_, which T'Mir liked except she wanted to know why there was only one 'celestial body' in the story. I had forgotten that Vulcan doesn't technically have a moon."

T'Pol's opened her eyes, but she said nothing. Trip grabbed her hand, and he sensed her suppressing a spectrum of emotions.

"I didn't show this to you to upset you. T'Les said it might, but it didn't seem fair, you not knowing we were in touch. . . there's an image."

Trip pressed a couple of buttons on the PADD, and an image of a little girl with straight brown hair, pointed ears and a serious expression appeared. Most striking, however, were the girl's blue eyes.

"T'Les says that since no Vulcan thinks cross-breeding is possible, they just assume her eyes are a mutation of some sort," said Trip.

T'Pol touched the image with her hand.

"I'm pleased you showed me this," she said.

"I'm glad," he said softly, "and I was wondering. You know Phlox is still working on a cure. . .if that happens. . .I was thinking maybe we could go to Vulcan for a visit. We wouldn't have to stay long, I mean, I wouldn't want to disrupt her life. . .but I'd like to see her."

T'Pol nodded in the affirmative.

"If he gets well," she said, "we shall go."

***

Four years later, Archer was walking Porthos on a drizzly day. When he arrived at his front gate, he noticed a young woman - a girl really - sitting on the front steps and getting wet.

"Hello, Captain Archer," said the girl in a slightly English-accented voice.

"I assume we've met," he said.

"Many times," she said getting up and holding out her hand, "I'm Lily Reed."

"You're Malcolm's?"

She nodded as he shook her hand.

"You don't look much like Malcolm," said Archer, who couldn't help but notice the girl was taller than Reed, and had blond hair, a pug nose and green eyes. Archer also noted multi-colored nail polish and a series of scars on the top of her arms.

"He and his wife adopted me after the big attack," she said, "but I have a little brother that look's just like my Dad."

"Who'd Malcolm marry? Anyone I know?"

"The MACO Amanda Cole. She died in a pirate attack two years ago," said Lily without emotion.

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Archer.

"It happens," said Lily.

T'Pol came out the front door.

"It is illogical to stand in the rain," she said, beckoning the two inside, "I have made tea. It's in the kitchen."

Since Amanda's death, Lily's grades had suffered. Malcolm had asked T'Pol to tutor her in organic chemistry, not only because T'Pol excelled at the subject but also because visits to the surface tended to cheer up Lily.

As they sipped their tea, Lily turned to Archer.

"There's some coffee on the ship. Seems they grow Earth coffee plants on Tellarite, and the Tellarite traders sometimes bring us some. Captain Tucker can be stingy about who gets it, but I'll bet I can convince him to share some with you."

"I'd like that," said Archer.

"Will you tell me about the time you saved my dad from the Romulan mine? And don't gloss over the details."

***

Three years later, T'Pol and Trip were cloistered in her bedroom looking over the data on a PADD.

"He really thinks he has it this time?" asked Trip, "There's been so many disappointments. . . ."

T'Pol brushed a hair from his face, and she leaned over and touched her forehead to his.

"He's never made the journey before this. He must be confident of his work."

"What will Archer do?" asked Trip, "It's been so long. . ."

"It's not been long for him. At least in his mind," she said, "and I'm sure his skills will be valuable to President Chang. She will no doubt find something for him to contribute."

Trip gathered her into a hug, the long-hoped for visit to Vulcan was in both their thoughts, but they did not speak of it.

"We can use all the help we can get, Archer's input included. The intelligence chatter has been ominous lately. The Xindi haven't given up. Most races in this quadrant are on our side, but I'm afraid it's just a matter of time. . . "

"We must hope it doesn't come to that," whispered T'Pol.

***

Hoshi, Trip and Malcolm sat around the Captain's table for their morning command meeting. The mood was unusually happy, due to the visitors that were set to arrive in just a few hours.

"It'll be great to see Phlox again," said Hoshi, "Miranda has about a million questions for him about his logs. I told her to try and limit them to around ten, just so he won't be overwhelmed."

Malcolm smiled.

"Lily can't wait to see Archer," said Malcolm, "I think she'll make him tell the Romulan mine story again. Maybe it will lighten her mood."

"Still the morose teenager?"

Malcolm rolled his eyes.

"I don't know if she'd be this way if the situation was. . .normal or if she's just a teenager. Her latest thing is an absolute refusal to come with us to _The Endeavor_. I've told her she can transport over anytime she likes, but she's adamant. Won't even discuss the matter. By the way, Michio's been coming around to see her, but she won't talk about that either."

Hoshi laughed.

"He says he's been hanging out in engineering, but I figured he was stopping off to see Lily on the way. Probably on the way back, too."

Trip contributed nothing to the conversation, but his mind drifted to the letter he had gotten from T'Mir that morning. She was still in primary school, and so the letter was filled with stories of her school projects and sweet tales about her pet Sehlat. Trip made a mental note to ask T'Pol what Vulcan teenagers were like, so he would know what to expect.

"As much as I am enjoying this conversation," he said, "We've got some intelligence reports to go over. It seems the Xindi are operating pretty close to here. . ."

***

Later that afternoon, T'Pol felt the battle raging all around her. Then, her body went cold. The bond that had been her solace for nearly twelve years had been severed, and she was hollow with shock. Yet, she wasn't alone in her mind. Across the light years, she sensed someone else who shared her suffering. T'Pol closed her eyes and suppressed the agony that coursed through her mind. She knew what she had to do.

"The bridge is gone," said Archer.

"T'Pol to Phlox," she said.

"Go ahead," said Phlox through the comm.

"Meet us in Engineering. We're going to finish the procedure."

"Understood."

"We don't have time to worry about parasites right now," said Archer.

"That's not necessarily true," said T'Pol, "Come with me. I'll explain."


	11. Epilogue

_Disclaimer: Not mine_

_Rating: PG_

**Epilogue**

"You'd make a good nurse," said Archer.

For that remark, Archer earned himself an eyebrow raise and nothing more.

As T'Pol left sickbay she experienced gratification that Archer appeared well, but she nonetheless had to suppress irritation. T'Pol respected those who dedicated their lives to the sick, but considering her skills and training, the idea of spending her life getting pillows for Jonathan Archer rankled her. He enjoyed being waited-on far too much for her.

_No wonder he never married_, she thought, _even human women weren't that foolish_. As much as she respected him as a captain and enjoyed his friendship, T'Pol nearly shuddered at the idea of bonding with Archer. The very qualities that made him such an effective captain were the things that would have made him an intolerable bondmate.

T'Pol was so caught up in her thoughts, she walked straight into Commander Tucker, who deftly grabbed her arm to prevent from knocking her over.

"Whoa there," he said, making sure she kept her balance.

Normally, T'Pol would have winced at such casual physical contact, but the neural pressure sessions had made her more physically comfortable with Tucker than she was with other humans.

"What's got you so distracted?" he said.

"I'm not distracted," she stated, "I am simply relieved that the captain was not more seriously injured during the anomaly."

"Right," he drawled, smiling, "How _is_ the Captain?"

"Resting comfortably," she said, "Phlox believes he will soon be able to return to duty."

Trip's body relaxed a little. He may have been affecting a casual attitude, but she knew the captain's injury, superficial though it was, had caused him great trepidation. Tucker, perhaps even more than the rest of the crew, recognized Archer as essential to the success of their mission. _Strange_, she thought, _how I have come to sense his feelings_.

"I guess he'll have to miss the movie tonight. That's a shame. It's one of his favorites," said Trip.

"He'll be watching it in sickbay," said T'Pol.

"Yeah," said Trip, "but it's not the same. Horror films need to be experienced as a group. Heightens the effectiveness."

T'Pol sighed.

"Then perhaps I will decline," she said, "I will be unable to contribute to a group sense of fear, since I don't experience fear."

Trip smiled.

"I don't know, it's a pretty creepy movie. . ."

T'Pol blinked at him.

"Still," he continued, "We'd miss you. I'd miss you, if you didn't come."

"Then, I shall see you there."

*****

T'Pol headed back to her quarters after the film, not staying to discuss its plot and themes with the others. While T'Pol did not experience emotions, she did find the story disquieting. As dissimilar as the their cultures were, Humans and Vulcans clearly shared anxiety about procreation and the rituals that surrounded it. Such a scenario as portrayed in the film could never happen to a Vulcan woman, for reasons she wasn't at liberty to share with her human colleagues, but the film had been instructive about specific human fears.

Her Vulcan hearing recognized familiar footsteps behind her.

"How'd you like the movie?" asked Trip.

"It was fascinating."

"Did it scare you?"

"No," she said honestly, as she arrived at her door.

"Always scares the hell out of me. Could I trouble you for a little neural pressure? It'll help me ward off the nightmares. . ."

"I suppose of any male on the ship, you would be the most likely to relate to Rosemary's predicament."

Trip furrowed his brow a bit at this.

"Oh. . .oh yeah. You're never gonna let me forget that are you?"

"Do you wish to engage in neural pressure treatment or not?" she asked, gesturing for him to come inside.

Trip followed her, and they fell into what had become routine for them. Soon, he was on the floor, sprawled on his stomach and shirtless. She was pressing into a neural node on his back, when the ship shook all around them, tossing her off her knees and onto his back. A PADD slid from her desk, and several objects fell from the shelves. They had encountered another anomaly.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, as she crawled off him and sat up, "I hope I did not injury you."

"I'm glad you're so tiny," he said as he got to his feet and reached out a hand to help her up.

She took it and stood up next to him.

The standard procedure was for all hands to stay put, including senior officers. Trip used the comm to call down to engineering, and he gave a few orders to his staff. T'Pol contacted Malcolm on the bridge, and he reported that while they were at dead stop, everything seemed to be under control despite them being trapped in the anomaly. After that, all they could do was wait.

"Seems I'm stuck here, Commander," said Trip.

She thought she detected a hint of a smile from him.

"It would be illogical not to proceed with the session," said T'Pol as she finished picking up the stray objects and returning them to their rightful places, "since neither of us can go anywhere."

Trip got back down on the floor, and she crawled on top of him once again. When they had finished, the anomaly had yet to pass, and Trip was clearly becoming sleepy.

"Please, Commander," she said, "I require far less sleep than you. You may take my bunk. I will awaken you if we clear the anomaly."

Trip shook his head.

"I can't take your bunk," he said.

"I'll be meditating for the next hour at least," she replied, "You'll be in my way if you are on the floor. I prefer you in the bunk."

Trip relented and climbed into her bunk.

"Wake me if anything happens," he said.

"I assure you, I will," she said as she positioned herself on the floor.

****

T'Pol opened her eyes, and she found herself on Vulcan. It was a very specific place on Vulcan, the garden of her mother's house. Except, when T'Pol looked at the sky, she saw what appeared to be Earth's moon. T'Khut and its moons were not visible.

_Am I dreaming? she thought._

She looked down at herself and saw that she was wearing a blue Starfleet uniform, with a gold stripe and, more surprisingly, captain's pips. She fingered the metal circles, as if to be certain of their existence. They felt solid.

T'Pol guessed that this was a dream, but her experience with dreams was so limited that she was unsure. She turned around and decided to head inside, but sitting on the steps leading to the main house was a child.

The Vulcan girl had straight brown hair and was adorned in the robes common for those children in late primary school.

T'Pol approached her and was startled to see that the girl had blue eyes.

The girl elevated her hand and spread her fingers in the traditional Vulcan greeting. T'Pol responded in kind.

"Who are you?" asked T'Pol.

"Don't you know?"

T'Pol shook her head, and the girl sighed in un-Vulcan frustration.

"I don't exist in your timeline," said the girl, "but I might. There's still a chance."

"What do you mean?"

"There was another timeline," she said, "I came into existence there, but you had to stop that timeline. You did the right thing by stopping it, but I disappeared along with all the bad things."

"Who are you?"

"I think you know. Deep down."

T'Pol looked over her shoulder, and she saw Trip sleeping on a chaise at the edge of the garden. T'Pol walked to him and knelt down to see if he was in distress.

"I tried to go into his dream," said the girl, "but I couldn't. His mind isn't focused enough. Not yet. But you could help him. You did in the other timeline."

T'Pol suddenly recognized the girl's eyes.

"Where are we?"

"This is my white space," said the girl, "I've made it - more interesting. Grandmother said I did it because my human half can't abide simplicity."

T'Pol was silent.

"You're only here because this anomaly is special," said the girl, "We're not in your timeline or my timeline. We're somewhere outside of time. Unless you create me, I won't be able to see you again."

T'Pol looked over at Trip, understanding.

"I can't . . .It's not. . ." she found herself stuttering.

T'Mir walked toward her mother and took her hand.

"It's _very_ logical," said the little girl, "You just need to open your mind to the logic of it."

T'Pol was quiet, and T'Mir closed her eyes. It wasn't quite a mind meld, but T'Pol did manage to sense something of the bond that had existed between the three of them in the other timeline. She nearly fainted, but she steadied herself as T'Mir let go.

"The anomaly is collapsing," said T'Mir softly, as she again lifted her hand in the familiar salute, "Live long and prosper, mother, whatever you decide."

T'Pol found herself in her white space for what seemed like a long, empty time. She then felt a hand on her shoulder.

"T'Pol," said Trip from somewhere far away, "are you okay?"

Her eyes flew open, and she was back in her quarters. She turned to him and saw worry in his face.

"I had an alarming. . .vision," she said.

"The all clear came," he said, "but you couldn't hear it. It's like you were catatonic or something. . .I think you should go see Phlox. You look really pale."

She met his eyes, remembering the strange images from her dream-state.

"The anomaly affected my meditation. I believe I should not engage in the practice while we are trapped in one."

Trip nodded.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I saw. . .strange things. . . hallucinations. . .it was disquieting. I believe I should rest."

Trip took the hint, but he didn't appear at all happy about leaving her.

"I will be fine, Commander," she said, standing up and escorting him to the door.

"Okay, but if you have any more crazy meditation visions, go see Phlox. Promise?"

She nodded her promise, but before he left, she spoke again.

"Humans believe dreams and visions have meaning, do they not?"

"Most cultures think so. My mom always said dreams were your subconscious mind telling your conscious mind things it didn't want to know. For better or worse."

"Fascinating," said T'Pol, regaining he composure.

"You know it's funny you should mention dreams," he said, "I had a dream I was on Vulcan - in a garden. I didn't know they had gardens there. I thought it was just desert everywhere. Anyway, I suppose sleeping in a Vulcan's bed will do that do you. . .anyway, sleep well, Commander."

She sensed he wanted to say something more, but he didn't.

"Good night, Commander."

After he was gone, she did not go to sleep. Instead, she meditated in her white space for a long time, trying to find that garden on Vulcan with a single moon visible in the sky.


End file.
